The Hunters and the Pretender
by phoenixnz
Summary: The Winchester brothers travel to San Francisco to check out possible hauntings in a bed and breakfast. There they meet Jane, the female Pretender in my series. A sequel to my CSI/Pretender crossover and the fifth story in the series. NB: Sexual content which will be toned down considerably. Also the epilogue includes a character from Smallville.
1. Chapter 1

Dean Winchester was curled up on the back seat of the Chevy Impala, trying to get some shut-eye, but the beam of a flashlight was keeping him awake.

"Sammy, turn the light off man."

"Sorry dude, couldn't sleep."

They were out of cash and a motel was out, so they were camped out in the Impala. Sam had been driving half of the night and they were both exhausted. They'd just spent a week in a town just outside of Georgia, getting rid of some vampires.

Sam yawned and shook the paper he was reading. Dean complained again and rolled over, facing the back seat, as if that would help him sleep. Sam folded the paper, then glanced through a small story below the fold. It was an article on a woman in San Francisco. She was under investigation by the SFPD for mysterious accidents in her Bed and Breakfast.

"Hey, Dean."

"What?" Dean said sleepily.

"Check this out. This woman, Anne Kershaw. She owns a two hundred year old house in San Francisco."

"So?"

"So, there have been five mysterious accidents in the space of a month. All guests at the Bed and Breakfast. And this article says she has no idea how it happened."

Dean sat up, suddenly interested. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Could be a ghost."

"We haven't had one of those for a while," Dean grinned. "Let's hustle. Shove over. I'm driving."

Six hours later they pulled up at the old house. It looked all right from the outside. But that was the problem with hauntings. It was never very clear from the outset.

"Looks all right," Sam said, staring out the passenger window at the building.

"Yeah, guess so." Dean opened his door and got out. Sam got out the other side. The sun was already high in the sky, beating down on them with harsh summer rays. June in the city of San Francisco was never all that pleasant.

Together, the brothers walked up the concrete walk to the main door. There was a sign saying 'Vacancy. Ring and enter'. Dean glanced at Sam, who pushed the white button next to the door and they opened the heavy door, barely sparing a glance at the stained glass panels.

A woman came out of what appeared to be the living room, wiping her hands on a rag. She had a black mark on her cheek and another on her nose.

"Hi. You boys wanting a room?"

Dean glanced at Sam, his eyes questioning. He'd read that the owner of the house was a woman in her sixties. This was a woman in her early thirties. He looked her over with a long-practiced eye. Damn, she was hot! Slender build, long, dark hair, perfect features.

Sam was looking her over as well. "Uh, you got a little ..." he said, touching his cheek in the same place where she had the mark, except the opposite side.

She rubbed at the mark, but it didn't come off. Dean noted she didn't seem in the least embarrassed by it.

"So, uh, yeah, we'd like a room. Or two. How much?"

She quoted a price range which was a little out of their reach. But Dean figured a little hustling at a couple of pool halls or a bar or two and he might be able to get the cash for it.

The woman was looking him over. "Need a deposit."

"Uh, yeah," Sam said, pulling out his wallet and handing over a credit card.

Dean suddenly felt a slight unease as she examined the credit card. "Roger Waters?" She cocked an eyebrow at Sam. Then turned to look at Dean. "And I suppose yours would read either Nick Mason or Syd Barrett."

Dean swallowed. "Uh ..." Damn, they were caught. How did she do that?

"It's just coincidence, really," Sam said.

She smiled. "I'll tell you what. You guys tell me your real names and I'll see if I can find some odd jobs for you to do – and we'll waive the fee. It's not as if this place is raking it in anyway."

"Uh, that's um, generous of you," Sam said, glancing at Dean, who shrugged. "Ms Kershaw."

The woman huffed, then snickered. "Oh, no, you have me mistaken for the owner. No, I'm just taking care of the place while she's away."

Damn, Dean thought. They'd been hoping to talk to her about what was happening.

"Away where?" Sam asked.

"Vacation. Up north. Like I said, I'm taking care of the place. I'm Jane. Smith."

If that's really your name, Dean thought, then I'm a monkey's uncle.

"Dean Winchester," he said, sticking out his hand. "This is my brother Sam."

Her eyes were twinkling as she looked him over. Dean could feel the electricity sparking between them. It looked like the attraction was mutual.

She handed them a key and told them how to get to their room.

"When you've unpacked, I could use a hand with a water pipe in the basement," she said.

"No problem," Dean said, giving Sam a look. They went upstairs. Sam took out his laptop and began surfing the 'net to do some research on the house, while Dean went back downstairs.

Jane was struggling with the leaking water pipe in the basement. The wrench she had was greasy and not much use. She heard footsteps on the rickety wooden stairs and called up. "Watch your step," she said.

"Yeah, thanks," Dean Winchester's voice called down.

"These old places do get a lot of wear and tear," she said conversationally as he joined her. He took the wrench from her and began working on the pipe.

"So what brings you to San Fran?" she asked, trying to make it sound casual, but she was curious about the two brothers and why they felt the need to lie.

"Uh, we travel around doing odd jobs."

"Really," she said, amused. "Sounds rather lonely." And she should know. After spending three weeks in Las Vegas, she'd had to say goodbye to someone she could consider a friend. And before that, she'd had to leave people she could have been friends with in Metropolis.

Jane sighed and shook the memory away. She didn't want to think about that time in Metropolis. She had made a serious mistake, and she knew that. But dwelling on it wasn't going to change what had happened. And it wasn't going to win him back.

Dean coughed beside her and she looked up.

"Sorry, day dreaming," she said, with a small smile.

"Yeah, I hear that. Uh, so you gonna replace the pipe or what?"

She nodded. "Got a new part from the hardware store. I left it upstairs."

"I can get it."

"Thanks, but I know where it is." There was the sound of the doorbell. "Damn! Okay, keep working on that pipe and I'll go see what's cooking."

Jane went up the stairs and out through the kitchen into the hallway. A man was standing there, looking around. He was aged in his late thirties, with dirty blonde hair, wearing an expensive looking suit.

"Mr Beckett," she said.

"Ms Smith. Where is Miss Kershaw?"

"Taking a well-earned vacation. Which I told you yesterday."

"I was hoping she'd had a chance to look at my offer."

"No, but I have. It's three times the value of the property."

"Well, you know how real estate prices are in this city." He looked as if he was trying to act friendly but Jane wasn't buying it.

"And Anne told you she had no intention of selling. So you're wasting your time."

Sam had been walking down the stairs and he paused, listening.

"This place is in debt up to its ears," Beckett told Jane. "I'm giving her a fair deal. And you know I'm not going to just go away."

From his vantage point, Sam could see Beckett moving closer to Jane, as if trying to intimidate her. Jane was a tall woman, but Beckett was at least a head taller than her. Sam hesitated, wondering if he should protect Jane from the man.

But Jane just smirked at the man. "Trust me, Beckett, you can't intimidate me. Now get off this property before I call the cops."

"I'll be back," he warned, as Jane pushed him out the door.

Sam watched as Jane stood in the doorway, making sure Beckett left. Then she turned and saw him on the stairs, smirking at him.

"If you've got nothing better to do, Sam, there are some loose tiles on the roof. Unless, of course, you have a problem with heights?"

"No ma'am."

Jane rolled her eyes. "Don't call me ma'am. You make me feel like my own mother."

"Sorry," he said, shrugging his shoulders and huffing. Jane ignored him and turned away, going back to the kitchen.

"You'll find what you need in the toolshed out back."

Sam was left to stare at her back, wondering how he'd managed to get talked into doing odd jobs. But he supposed it was better than her calling the cops on them.

An hour later he was nailing the last of the tile in the roof when she came out and called up to him.

"Yo, Winchester, grub's up."

Food. Sam was starving! He packed up the tools and climbed down onto the porch, leaving the tools on the bench outside before going back into the house. As he made his way to the kitchen he saw Dean going up the stairs. He was soaked.

"What happened to you?"

"Leaking pipe. Just how did we get talked into this?" Dean said before running up the stairs to change his clothes.

Jane was in the kitchen, making a salad. Sam washed his hands in the tub in the laundry and returned to the kitchen.

"Is it just us?" he asked.

"Is that a problem?"

"Uh, no."

There was something a little off about her. She seemed to blow hot and cold and could be kind of abrupt. But Sam didn't have a chance to talk to her about it as Dean came in, smirking and rubbing his hands together.

"Chow time. All right!"

They sat down at the table and dug in. Jane had made lasagne. Sam helped himself to a large piece and salad and enjoyed the home cooking. They ate in silence, except for the appreciative noises Dean was making.

Sam ate until he was full, then poured himself a glass of juice.

"So, what was that all about before? The guy. Beckett?"

"It's not your concern," Jane said.

"It sounds like he was trying to buy the property. I mean, if Ms Kershaw ..."

"Anne is not selling. This house is where she was born and it's been in her family for generations."

"But still ... if the price really is ..."

"Sammy, she said it's none of our business."

Sam caught the glare from his older brother and quickly dropped the subject. Dean took up the conversation.

"So, uh, how do you know Ms Kershaw? I mean, if she's trusting you with her place for a few days ..."

"Oh, her family and mine go way back," Jane said.

"Uh-huh!"

She was lying! She had to be. Dean sent Sam a look which confirmed he was thinking the same thing.

Jane smirked at them. She knew exactly what they were thinking. But she wasn't about to tell them the truth. That Jarod had sent her here after he became concerned about the accidents. Especially when their research had uncovered the fact that Beckett, a property developer, was buying up a lot of neighbouring houses.

So far, Anne Kershaw had held out, but the little Bed and Breakfast she'd worked so hard to create was losing money, thanks to those accidents. Anne had been involved in an accident herself. She had no idea what had happened. She'd just thought she'd tripped going down the stairs. She'd broken her leg in two places.

Jane wasn't about to tell the Winchester boys that though. Or that Anne Kershaw didn't know her at all. Jane had only arrived the day before the last accident.

Jane left the boys to do the dishes and went upstairs to her own room, getting out her laptop.

"Let's see who you really are," she muttered, starting with some research on the net.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Jane's research turned up nothing. At least, nothing personal. But an image search picked up some old police files. Dean and Sam Winchester had had quite a few run ins with law enforcement. From being suspects in murders to credit card fraud.

Further searches turned up the mysterious death of Sam's fiancé, Jess, five years earlier. It appeared there had been a fire at their apartment, and there hadn't been much left of Jess' body to determine what had happened.

While Jane was checking her email account, she saw the name of her ex in a tagline. And rather like someone who couldn't help but look at the carnage from a car wreck, she clicked on the link to see that Oliver Queen was partying it up with every popular model available. And then some. The ironic thing was, every woman he was photographed with looked a lot like her.

Jane felt a brief surge of anger. She had wronged him, she knew that, but he was practically thumbing his nose at her, taunting her by dating up a storm, and looking as if he was having a great time. It hurt.

She thought briefly of Dean Winchester. He was cute. No, more than cute. He was sexy, and she had a feeling he felt the same way about her. That was neither here nor there. He and his brother were up to something, and she needed to find out what it was.

A beep on her cellphone made her look up. She checked the message, then logged on to the video calling.

"Jane. How's San Francisco?"

"Well, you're right about one thing, Jarod," she said, looking at her brother thoughtfully.

"What's that?"

"Nothing is as it seems. I have two guests staying here. They seem a bit suspect."

"How so?"

"Dean and Sam Winchester. They've been tangling with the law a few times."

"Local?"

Jane shook her head. "Feds."

"Doing what?"

"Well, credit card scams for one. I caught them at it. But ... I don't know. If they were dangerous they would have tried something by now. Anyway, I did a little bit of research and it seems Sam Winchester was headed for law school when he disappeared five years ago. His girlfriend was apparently killed in a fire, although he claims she was murdered. Police report said there wasn't much left, so they couldn't determine whether it was the fire that killed her or something else.

"Anyway, I'm going to do a bit more digging into Dean and Sam Winchester."

"Keep an eye on them. What about Beckett?"

"Oh yeah, he's a piece of work. I've been talking to some of the neighbours who are selling up. Seems like he's been offering them way more than their properties are worth."

Something crashed in the room next door. Jane looked up and frowned. She'd given the brothers a room across the hall and at least two doors down, so there was no reason for any sound in the room next door.

"Listen, I've gotta go check something out."

"Keep me updated."

Jane logged off and went out, going to the room next door. She was startled to see Dean and Sam in the room, holding what looked like a cheap radio. But it clearly wasn't.

"What the hell?"

The instrument was buzzing. Sam looked up at her but said nothing, continuing to look at the dials which were going crazy.

Then Jane looked up to see what looked like some kind of sticky substance on the walls.

_'LEAVE'._

"Oh, he's a funny ghost," Dean commented.

Jane stared round at Dean. "What?" She scoffed. "There's no such thing as ghosts."

"Then what would you call this?" Sam indicated the writing on the wall, then showed her the instrument.

"EMF? Electro-magnetic frequency? Are you guys nuts?"

"Not exactly."

They all trooped downstairs. The ghost, or whatever it was, had gone. Jane made coffee and sat down at the table, reversing the chair so her torso faced its back.

"Okay, talk. Electromagnetic frequencies usually mean radiation. So tell me, Spengler," she said, looking at Sam, "how does that translate into a ghost?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Okay, first, this isn't a movie. Ghosts are real."

"Right," she said sarcastically, nodding her head. "And I suppose you'll tell me next that vampires are real, as are werewolves etc."

"They are," Dean interjected.

Jane studied them both thoughtfully. There was definitely something off about these two. But she could tell that they felt the same way about her.

"The problem is," Sam said, looking at Dean. "I couldn't find anything on the house. Nothing that would indicate who would be haunting it."

"What do you mean?" Jane said.

"Well, according to the history, no one died a violent death in this house. Or suddenly. That's usually what prompts a haunting."

"Are you sure it's a ghost? It could be someone playing a practical joke," Jane responded.

"Oh, it's a ghost all right," Dean said.

"But how do you know?"

"Because we do," Dean said, losing his temper. "Jesus Christ, woman, what's with the fucking interrogation?"

Dean got up, flinging the chair away and walked out of the room. Jane frowned at Sam, puzzled by Dean's behaviour.

"What's his deal?"

Sam just shrugged at her. "It's just Dean. He acts like a jerk sometimes. It's nothing personal."

But Jane doubted that. She had a feeling it was more than that. She got up and went out to the living room.

"Look, Dean," she said, as he stood at the window staring out at the darkness, brooding. "I don't care what your fucking problem is, but right now it looks like we have bigger problems. So you better start talking to me and telling me what you know."

Dean turned and glared at her, then sighed. He followed her back into the kitchen and sat down. She poured another cup of coffee and looked at him.

"Fine. What do you want to know?"

"Firstly, how do you know it's a ghost?" she said.

"Because ghosts leave a trail."

"A trail that can only be detected through electro-magnetic frequency."

"Okay, so how do you get rid of a ghost?" she asked.

"You find the remains, salt the bones and bury them."

"But first you gotta identify the ghost."

"And I suppose that's where the house's history comes in," she said, looking at them both.

"Ghosts are usually tied to the place where they died."

"Is it true that their death has to be through violence, or suicide?"

"Not necessarily," Sam said. "Sometimes it's just because they have unfinished business."

"This isn't getting us anywhere," Dean complained bitterly. "We need to identify this ghost and get rid of it."

Sam ignored his brother and looked at Jane.

"How much do you know about the accidents?"

"Only that there were five before I got here and they were all guests."

"Before you got here? So what brought you here?"

Jane narrowed her eyes at Dean. He clearly didn't trust her – anymore than she trusted him.

"Like I said, Ann is a friend of the family."

Dean glared at her. "Right. And I'm a monkey's uncle. Why don't we start with some truth telling, huh? You know what we do. So tell me, Jane Smith, who the fuck are you, really?"

Jane glared at him coldly. "That's not your concern."

"Yeah?" His grin was almost feral. "Well, I'm making it my concern. For all I know you could be some demon bitch sent here to make trouble for the owner of this place. Or for us. It ain't the first time, it sure as hell wouldn't be the last."

"A demon?" Jane scoffed. "You think I'm some kind of demon? Fine, then go ahead. Test me."

"Dean," Sam said quietly.

"No, Sammy, I've had enough of this bitch! We came here to take care of the ghost and for all I know she's trying to put the whammy on us."

"The whammy?" Jane laughed in his face. She stood up, moving around the table and pushing Dean against the wall. Normally, he was strong enough to resist, but she'd taken him by surprise. "I'll show you whammy," she whispered, moving in for the kill. Dean fought, but she kissed him hard, forcing her tongue in-between his lips and he moaned in arousal.

Suddenly he was let go and Jane was smirking at him from a metre away.

"You know, for a tough guy, you don't put up much of a fight." With that, she walked out of the room.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean stomped up to the room in a foul temper. Sam followed along behind him, quietly amused. Dean had had a lot of girls. But Jane was the first one who, it seemed, had gotten to him.

"Goddamn that bitch!" he was muttering. "I hate her. Fucking bitch, thinks she can get one over on me."

Dean opened the door, pushing hard on it so it swung back on its hinges, hitting the wall.

"Take it easy, dude," Sam said.

Dean turned on him, dark eyes glowering. "You take it easy," he growled. He pointed toward the bed where Sam had placed the laptop. "Get on that thing and tell me who the fuck she is."

"Still think she's a demon?" Sam smirked, but quickly recoiled as Dean looked as if he was about to hit him.

They'd been to hell and back. Literally. Three years ago, Dean had made a deal with a crossroads demon in exchange for Sam's life. He'd been given one year to live and then he would be taken straight to hell. Four months he'd been gone. Four months which was more like forty years in the hell dimension and he had gone through torture like Sam had never known.

Things hadn't been so great between them lately. Their relationship had broken down to the point where there were times when they could barely say a civil word to each other. But they were bound by their mutual destinies. To defeat the armies of hell. To stop the demons from taking over the world. Stop the apocalypse. Sam sighed. Sometimes he hated his life.

Now they had a ghost problem to deal with, and as much as he wanted to know who the mysterious Jane was, the ghost was far more of a priority.

"Dean, do you know how many Jane Smiths there are in the world? How the hell do you think we're going to find out who she is?"

"Start with the feds. If she ain't a demon she's a cop of some sort."

"Yeah, that'll help," Sam muttered, thinking his brother had totally lost his mind. "Dean, we should be trying to figure out who the ghost is. Not worrying about some woman we haven't got a chance in hell of tracking."

"There has to be a reason she's here," Dean insisted. "If not to stop us, then for some other reason."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Fine."

He booted up the laptop and hacked into the federal database, but with the thousands of agents listed, he knew it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.

"Start with the Bay area. She has to be local."

Sam bit back a retort. He knew what he was doing. Hell, he knew more about computers than Dean did. But for some reason, Dean was more wound up over Jane than any other person they'd come across in their travels. Usually when a woman got to him it was because ...

Sam stole a glance at his brother. Yep, Dean had that look. That same one he always got when he saw a woman he liked enough to want to go to bed with her. The flushed face, the sheen of sweat on his brow. And he was scratching at his crotch. Which definitely meant he was aroused.

Dean had drifted off into a fantasy world. A fantasy where Jane was under him, pleading for mercy as he thrust hard and deep. Where she begged for more. God, she was so hot! And he was so hard! Rubbing himself, Dean could feel himself growing harder.

Lifting his head, he realised Sam was watching him. Turning away, he got up, trying to hide the evidence of his arousal and went out the door, looking for the bathroom. Just his luck, he found it was occupied. Well, shit!

As he debated whether to go back to the room, he heard the shower being turned off and a couple of minutes later Jane came out, a towel wrapped around her and knotted above her breasts. Dean gulped. His hard-on which had begun to deflate was back to full awareness.

Oh Jesus, he thought.

Jane just smirked at him and he wondered if she had seen just how aroused he was. He was so screwed!

Jumping in the shower, Dean stood for a while under the hot water, trying not to picture her, but it was a losing battle. He could just imagine her golden skin, her high rounded peaks. He imagined himself licking her skin. Dean began to stroke himself thinking of how her hand must feel on him, how it would feel to slide between her legs. With a shuddery gasp he came, the evidence of his climax disappearing down the drain.

"What the fuck am I doing?" he asked himself in a low voice.

Grabbing a towel from the shelf, he unfolded it and wrapped it around himself as he got out of the tub. He bent down and grabbed his clothes, then went out. Before he could get back to the room he was sharing with Sam, Jane came out of her room. She paused in her doorway, still smirking at him. It was almost as if she was reading his mind.

Escaping into the room, he looked at his brother.

"Well?"

"I told you it would be impossible to find anything," Sam told him. "Needle in a haystack."

"Don't care."

Sam looked up at him, exasperated. "If you want to know who she really is, why don't you just ask her?"

Dean grinned sardonically. "Yeah, why don't I just do that? And have her kick my ass."

He grabbed some clothes from his rucksack and put them on, ignoring his brother's huffing. An uneasy silence fell on the room, interrupted only by the clicking of the keys on the laptop as Sam continued his search. Or the occasional sigh.

"Fine," he said finally, unable to stand Sam's huffing any longer. "Start researching the house. I'm gonna go see if I can find the ghost."

"Already on it," Sam told him.

Dean sighed and went back out into the hallway, looking for the room the ghost had supposedly been in earlier. But the ghost didn't appear in the room. The EMF detector showed nothing. No activity.

Heading downstairs, he tried every room in the house. Still nothing. Frowning, Dean was beginning to wonder if this was a haunting at all. Then a thump from upstairs had him dashing back up to the second floor. He listened at the top of the stairs.

"No, please, please don't. I won't do it again."

Jane was screaming. It was loud enough for Sam to come out of their room and look at him, puzzled. Dean hesitated. She was obviously in the throes of some kind of nightmare. The weird thing was, she was talking in some kind of accent. Almost British, but not quite. She'd been speaking with an American accent earlier, but it was obvious that she had no control in her sleep.

There was a crash in the room and Dean put his hand on the door handle. Jane screamed again, but it wasn't the scream of someone in a nightmare. The scream was suddenly cut off. Dean gripped the handle and tested it. Locked. He could hear what could only be the sounds of a struggle. Glancing at Sam, he nodded his head toward their room. Nodding in return, Sam disappeared back into the room.

Dean knocked on the door.

"Jane? You all right?"

More sounds of a struggle. It sounded like a lamp was knocked over as he heard the sound of glass breaking. Putting his shoulder to the door, Dean rammed it hard. Good thing about these old houses, he thought. The age of the doors meant they weren't as solid as they used to be. The door crashed open. Jane was struggling on her back on the bed, choking. Something was holding her down. Her eyes were wide, almost as if they were about to pop as the ghost squeezed the life out of her.

Dean's breath became a cold mist in the chilly air. Sam ran in behind him and handed him one of their shotguns, loaded with rock salt. Dean quickly cocked it, aimed and fired. Something dissipated and Jane was free.

She sat up, coughing. Dean turned to Sam.

"Go get her a glass of water."

Sam nodded, turning and going out the door. Dean switched on the light and sat on the bed. A livid bruise was already starting to form on her neck. She looked at him, then looked away.

"Sorry," he said.

She coughed again, taking the glass that Sam brought in, sipping it slowly. After a few minutes, she seemed better.

"What the hell was that?" she rasped.

"Just your friendly neighbourhood ghost," Dean said with a smile.

"Damn thing was trying to kill me," she said, seeming shocked at this turn of events.

"Yeah, they do that sometimes. How's the throat?"

"Feels like crap," she said.

Sam had thought to grab an icepack and he handed it to her.

"Thanks," she said. He just shrugged.

Jane turned, leaning over toward the side table to put the glass down. Dean gasped. Her top had ridden up and he could see scars on her back. Jane looked at him, then realised what he was looking at, quickly grabbing the hem of her top and pulling it back down. Her eyes dared him to say something.

But it wasn't Dean who spoke. It was Sam.

"Who did that to you?" he asked. "Those scars ..."

"It was a long time ago, Sam. Forget about it."

"I can't."

"Look, it's late. We should all get some sleep."

"Oh hell no," Dean said. "We need to find this ghost. Before it kills you. Or ... us," he added, looking at Sam.

"What the hell did you do to get it off me anyway?" she asked.

"Rock salt. Ghosts hate it."

"Oh, I see."

"Got anything made of iron around here?" Dean asked her. "Cause, you know, that works too."

Jane nodded. "Fireplace."

Sam nodded. "You guys stay here. I'll get it."

"Why are you doing this anyway?" Jane asked Dean while Sam was gone.

"Nothing better to do. Anyway, it's hurt six people so far." She frowned at him. "Well, there's you. Then the five guests."

"Oh. Actually it's seven."

"Who's the seventh?"

"Anne. She's in the hospital. Fractured her leg in two places."

"Shit. Why didn't you tell us?"

"I didn't think it was your place to know. I didn't know if you were working for Beckett."

"Beckett? That guy from this afternoon?" Sam asked, coming back in.

"Yeah. He's a property developer."

"You think he might have something to do with this?"

"Well, let's see, the problems started a month ago and Beckett has been trying to buy the property for the last couple of months. Anne won't budge. Like I said, it's her home."

Dean looked at Sam. "It wouldn't be the first time someone's used that approach."

"Yeah, trouble is, the ghost has graduated from just plain assault to attempted murder," Sam answered.


	4. Chapter 4

It was a sleepless night for all of them. Dean wasn't happy about leaving Jane alone and wanted to watch for the ghost. Sam wasn't happy about leaving either of them and decided to try researching the ghost some more. But he couldn't get any information on the computer.

"There's some books on the family downstairs," Jane suggested. "Maybe you'll find something in there."

"Yeah, good idea," Sam said.

Telling her to stay put, he ignored Dean's smirk and went downstairs to grab the books. They all sat in Jane's room, going through the books. Jane and Sam finished faster than Dean, despite the fact there were six volumes.

"Nothing," Sam sighed, slamming his book closed.

"Me either," Jane sighed.

"There's gotta be something," Dean growled, but even he had to admit defeat.

"Let's face it. There's no rhyme or reason for it."

"What about the land itself?" Jane suggested. "Gold mining. Prospecting. I read that was what brought the family from back east."

"It wouldn't make any sense," Sam told her. "The ghost is haunting the house, not the land."

"What about that guy. Beckett?" Dean said. "What makes you think he's got something to do with it."

"He's been buying properties all around this place. It's prime land."

Dean looked at Sam. "Maybe it's like that time in Hollywood," he suggested.

"What do you mean?" Jane asked.

Sam looked at her. "Uh, well, there was this writer who didn't like the way his original story was being butchered, so he called up some ghosts who ended up killing some people on the set of this horror movie."

"And you think there's a possibility that Beckett might be trying something like this."

"Is he the type to do it?" Dean asked.

Jane looked thoughtful. "Yeah. He just might be."

Dean looked at Sam, then back at Jane. "Get dressed," he told her. "Let's go check out this guy's office."

Jane raised an eyebrow at him. "You giving me orders now?" she said.

"There's no way I'm leaving you here on your own," he said. "Not if the ghost is trying to kill you."

"Gee whatever would I do without my knight in dented armour," she returned sarcastically. Dean rolled his eyes. Sam pulled him away.

"We'll wait outside so you can get some clothes on," he told Jane.

Dean followed Sam out. He looked at his brother.

"What is it?" he asked, seeing the look on Sam's face.

"I, uh, did a little snooping downstairs while you were playing nursemaid." He pulled a card out of his pocket and handed it to Dean.

"You went snooping in her bag?" Dean said in a loud whisper. "All right, Sammy."

He read the card. It said Jane was a real estate broker. Dean glanced toward the door.

"So, either she's in it with Beckett ..."

"Or she's a rival. And since the ghost tried to kill her I'm guessing the latter."

Jane stood listening at the door, a broad grin on her face as she listened to the boys' conversation on the other side. Perfect, she thought. If they believed it, then Beckett would. She moved quickly as Dean knocked on the door.

"You decent?"

"Give me a minute," she returned, still hoarse. "A ghost did just try to kill me."

And that hadn't been planned at all. Jarod in his Pretending days had done a lot of things, but he'd never investigated a haunting. The Centre didn't believe in the supernatural. But Jane knew if she just studied the boys a little more, did some research, she could be as good a hunter, if not better, than they were.

It was not a pleasant thought that there was a ghost in this house trying to kill her. If Dean and Sam were right and Beckett had somehow invoked the spirit, he had to be controlling it somehow. And it was more than likely that he had ordered the ghost to kill her, thinking her a rival.

"C'mon Jane. We ain't got all night."

Jane opened the door and glared at Dean. "Did you even bother to go to English classes in high school or were you too busy screwing cheerleaders?"

Dean just glared back at her. Then a slow smirk formed on his face.

"Not just cheerleaders," he said slyly, looking her up and down with a lascivious smirk.

Jane huffed. "You really think you're God's gift, don't you?"

"Yep."

"Well, let me tell you something, Winchester. If you were my gift, I'd be sending it back."

Dean's face fell. Sam chortled as Jane brushed past him. Dean glared at his brother, then watched as Jane went down the stairs ahead of them, admiring her ass in the tight jeans. Sam grabbed his arm and held him back a second.

"Dean? No."

Dean just grinned unrepentantly. Sam sighed. It was the same everywhere they went. Dean would flirt up a storm, even if the woman had dubious morals, like Jane appeared to. Eventually they would go to bed together and it would end badly. As they always did.

They had accepted long ago that the whole white picket fence, wife and 2.4 kids just wasn't for them. Not when they were saving the world on a daily basis. But that didn't seem to stop Dean from bedding every gorgeous female he met. And Jane met that category.

Trouble was, Sam had no idea who she really was. He sensed something odd about her. He didn't know why. Maybe it was his demon blood. But he had the feeling that she wanted him to find that card. He wondered if they were being set up.

The house's owner was in the hospital, and there was no way he could talk to her. And why had Jane finally admitted that? She could still have kept to the fiction that Anne Kershaw had gone away for a vacation. But then, that didn't explain Jane's presence. He knew that she knew that they hadn't bought the whole 'friend of the family' deal.

The sky was just beginning to lighten as they walked outside to the Impala.

"What a piece of junk!" Jane exclaimed.

Dean was immediately on the defensive.

"Hey, do not insult the car." He stroked the fender lovingly. "She gets offended easily."

Jane just rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Men. It's always about the car."

"Yeah, well this car has seen a lot of action, if you know what I mean."

"Like I really want that image!" Jane snorted.

Dean crowded her against the rear door. "Give it a try," he said. "You might just like it."

Jane was looking up at him, a smirk on her face. Dean wasn't much taller than her so it wasn't a stretch for her when she leaned toward him and whispered in his ear. Sam sighed. It was starting. No, wrong, he thought. It had already started with the kiss in the dining room. Jane had started it and Dean was going to continue it.

"Hey," he said. "We've got work to do."

Pushing his brother aside, he opened the rear door for Jane and ushered her inside. She turned and raised an eyebrow at him before getting in the car. Dean went around to the driver's side and got in while Sam got in the passenger side.

Jane leaned forward on the back of Sam's seat.

"So, Sam, I'm guessing you'd know San Fran fairly well."

Sam turned, frowning at her. "Why would you say that?"

"Well, you sound educated. I'm picking you were a student at Stanford."

Sam's heart skipped a beat. How did she know that?

"Uh, no, actually I went to school back east," he lied.

"Yeah right," she said, sitting back.

Sam glanced at Dean, who just concentrated on his driving. The conversation lapsed as they drove into the city but Sam was worried. She knew more about them than she was telling. That crack about Stanford proved it.

Just who the hell was Jane Smith? Sam was going to find out. He had to.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean parked a little way down the street from the building. Beckett had an office on the thirtieth floor. Jane leaned forward, watching as Sam took id cards out of the glove compartment.

"You really think that's going to work?" she said.

"You got something better in mind?"

Jane smirked. "Watch and learn, boys. Be ready to move when I give the signal."

She got out of the car, the back door hinges squeaking. As Sam watched ,she did something with her clothes, messing her hair up. He glanced at Dean, who was watching with a sly smirk on his face.

"Some kind of woman, huh?" he said.

"Dean, I'm not so sure we should trust her. There's something, I don't know, weird about her."

Dean looked at his brother. "Are you kidding me? You're the one who said we wouldn't be able to find anything on Jane. Now you're telling me not to trust her. We both know she's trying to pull the same trick as this guy Beckett."

"I don't know," Sam mused. "I think we might be wrong about that too. She's too smart to have left that card in her bag."

"Maybe she didn't think good old Sammy goody-two shoes wouldn't go snooping."

"I'm not a goody-two-shoes," Sam protested. "She's talking to the guard. We need to go."

"Yeah. And Sammy, you are a goody-two-shoes. Or you used to be."

Sam rolled his eyes. Whatever!

Jane was talking to the guard, describing her pretend assailant. She had decided to use the same old trick – pretending she'd been attacked while walking home while out late partying and only just managing to get away, heading for the one place where she knew she would be safe. Her office building. The guard didn't need to know that she wasn't employed there. She knew enough about Beckett to bluff her way in.

"Maybe I should call the cops," the guard was saying.

Jane was acting as if she was still nervy, her voice shaking. "No, I think I'll be okay if I just stay here for a while. I'm so glad you were here. Really."

"Yeah, but he might hurt someone else," the guard said kindly.

Jane signalled behind her back for the boys to sneak in behind the guard.

"I think maybe he was just drunk," Jane said reasonably. "The thing is, I sort of know him from work. I don't want to get him in any trouble. You understand, don't you? It could have been just a mistake."

"Maybe. But that bruise sure don't look like a mistake."

As Dean and Sam watched, Jane seemed to unconsciously touch the bruise on her neck. They kept walking, heading to the service elevator and pressing the button for the top.

"You're right. Look, I'm just going to go up to Mr Beckett's office. I can wait there until it's safe enough for me to leave. I'll have some friends come and pick me up outside."

"If you're sure, miss ..."

"Smith," she said with a wan smile.

Dean was still trying to work out how to get through the electronic lock on Beckett's office when Jane came out of the main elevator.

"How did you get up here without the security card?" Sam asked her, still watching Dean try to unlock the door.

She just gave him a look as if to say 'are you kidding?' She turned to Dean.

"Are you still working on the lock?"

"It ain't as easy as it looks, sister."

"First of all, Winchester, I'm not your sister. And second, get the fuck out of the way. Amateur."

They watched as she took out a small device, almost like a Blackberry. She connected it with crocodile clips to the wiring of the electronic lock, pressing a few keys on the device. Within seconds the door light had switched from red to green.

"Where did you learn that?" Dean asked.

"Sunday School," she said snarkily, opening the door. Then she waved them through.

"Oh no, after you," Dean smirked.

"I insist," she told him. "After you."

"Bitch!"

Jane ignored him, closing the door behind her.

"So, Mr Expert," she said, glaring at Dean. "You want to tell me what we're looking for?"

"Anything that might be a talisman," Sam told her. "Something that can be used to control a ghost."

"Or anything he might know about that house," Dean interjected.

Jane nodded. She started looking through the files on the desk while Sam and Dean searched through the books. Jane sat down at the desk, looking at the computer.

"Hmm, wonder if he keeps things on the computer."

"He'd probably have it password protected," Sam said. "We don't have time to try and break them."

"Maybe you don't," she muttered.

Dean and Sam turned, hearing the computer beep.

"We don't have time for this," Dean whispered.

"Relax, Winchester. Let me try this first."

Sam looked at Dean and rolled his eyes. Dean just shook his head. He moved around the desk and watched as Jane's fingers flew over the keyboard. She quickly found a back door into Beckett's hard drive. He found his limited experience with computers severely lacking as he watched Jane work, clearly understanding the computer language which just looked like gibberish to him. He glanced at Sam who was also frowning.

Somehow, she was in. She was speed reading the files.

"Okay, I think I know who the ghost is," she said after a few minutes. "Grab the printout and let's get out of here."

Sam grabbed the pages off the printer and waited for Jane to shut down the computer. They quickly exited the office, heading back down to the lobby. Jane signalled for them to wait by the bank of elevators while she distracted the guard. They slipped past while she was talking with him, making sure he was turned away from the entry.

"Why are we taking orders from a chick?" Dean whispered.

"Well, she knows what she's doing at any rate," Sam said as they made it out the door without incident. Jane joined them a few minutes later.

Sam started reading the pages as Dean drove back to the house. Beckett had been doing research on immigrants to the city. As San Francisco had grown, it had become a major port of arrival for the miners, looking for their fortunes. A shanty town had sprung up close to the area where the house had been built – in those days it had been a mansion for one of the earliest settlers of the area who had seen the potential for growth in a town so close to the ocean.

One of those new settlers had been an Asian immigrant. Like so many of his fellow immigrants, he was subjected to racial abuse from other miners and forced to live in squalor. A fight had broken out in a tavern over a claim. On his way back to the little cabin he'd built, the immigrant had been murdered, his throat slashed. He'd died outside the mansion.

"The books on the house never mentioned this," Sam commented.

"Of course they wouldn't," Jane said. "History is subjective. And it's always written by the victors, not the losers. Hitler went down in history as a dictator bent on ruling the world but perhaps in his mind he was attempting to create a better one."

"Yeah, sure, a world where if you weren't blonde and blue-eyed you were pretty much a lamb to the slaughter," Dean remarked.

"Nobody's perfect," Jane returned with a wink.

They got back to the house and sat down for breakfast, discussing what to do next. It was clear that Beckett was determined to get the property and was not shy of committing murder to do it. But now that they knew the ghost's identity, they could at least stop it from returning.

Jane poured them coffee. "Okay, so you find his grave, salt the bones and burn them. Then what? It won't stop Beckett."

"Is that all you're interested in?" Sam asked her, looking at her evenly. "Stopping Beckett? Maybe you're interested in the property yourself."

Jane looked at him steadily, but he saw a flash of anger.

"What would you know about it?"

"We know you're in the same line of work as Beckett," he told her. "We saw your card."

Another flash of anger. "You've been nosing into things you shouldn't be, Winchester."

Sam stood and glared down at her. He had at least six inches on her and could make himself look intimidating when he wanted. But she didn't seem to be at all fazed by it.

"Yeah, well, I think you're conning somebody here. Only I'm not sure who's being conned. Us, or Anne Kershaw."

"You're a fine one to talk about conning people, Sam," she said, glaring back up at him. "Or is it Roger Waters, or, I don't know, Fox Mulder? I mean, chasing demons sounds more like something from X-Files to me."

Dean looked at her incredulously. "You've seen X-Files?"

She smiled sheepishly. "It's very good." She shook her head as if to clear it and looked back at Sam. "You don't know anything about me," she told him coolly.

"And that's the whole problem. We don't know anything about you. How are we supposed to trust you when you won't be straight with us? I saw you work on that computer. It took you maybe five minutes to break through those passwords. There's no one on this planet who has those capabilities, except for maybe Bill Gates. And you're not him."

"Hell, no, she's too pretty to be old Bill," Dean interjected. Sam shut him up with a glare.

"And there's the fact that you seem to know everything about us. Just how do you know I went to Stanford?" Dean made a noise as if to tell him he'd said enough, but Sam continued on. "I mean, one moment you're being a bitch and the next you're ..."

Jane regarded him silently.

"You're wrong," she said finally. "There's another person on this planet who has the capability of breaking into any computer besides me. And that ... that was child's play."

"How did you do it then? It took me a long time to learn how to hack into systems."

"Because it's what I was trained for," she sighed, sitting down, the defiance seeming to have left her.

"What?"

"The other person ... is my brother. Jarod. He ... both of us are Pretenders."

"Like the pop group?"

Jane looked at Dean, a puzzled frown on her face.

"A what?"

"You know, music." Dean looked perplexed. "You know about Pink Floyd but you don't know about the Pretenders?"

Jane shook her head. "We didn't have pop music where I grew up."

"Where did you grow up? A commune?" Dean chuckled, but he stopped when he saw the look of pain on her face. She quickly looked away. Sam sat down next to her.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I didn't know."

"I guess I owe you guys the truth. And you're right. I can be a bitch sometimes. My ex used to tell me I could be too harsh, too cold. It's not something I can always help. I try ..." She heaved her shoulders. "I try to be more human, but it's difficult sometimes."

"What do you mean, more human?"

"I wasn't born into a normal family like you two were."

"Demon?" Sam asked.

"No." She laughed suddenly. "God no. I was raised in a sterile environment. A place called The Centre. Have you heard of it?"

The two men shook their heads.

"It's a research facility. Or it was. Anyway, the people at The Centre took the fertilised eggs my mother had kept at a clinic known as NuGenesis and implanted them in a surrogate. Nine months later I was born. I was isolated, kept away from other children."

"Why?"

"Because of my unique abilities. I can become anyone I want to be. A lawyer, a doctor – I have an eidetic memory which means I absorb everything I read and I can use it."

"Like a medical textbook," Dean suggested.

"Yes."

"So what happened? How did you get the scars on your back?"

"They called it negative reinforcement. They tried to beat the humanity out of me. When I was six, I was forced to watch a man being tortured, to get inside his head and clinically analyse what was going through his mind. But I got too far into the Pretend and began to feel those feelings for myself."

"They beat you? You were just a child!" Sam was shocked.

"They didn't care. And I learned very quickly not to let my emotions show. By the time I was in my twenties I had lost any spark of humanity. On the surface at least. And I obeyed orders blindly."

"How did you get out? I mean, does The Centre still exist?"

"No. It's a long story, but The Centre became bankrupt and was bought out by a man who tried to use it for his own ends. He had me kidnap a man with his own special abilities and I was forced to watch as he tortured the man nearly to death." Her voice began to break at this point. Sam squeezed her hand. Obviously these memories were painful for her.

"Anyway, the man I kidnapped reached out to me. He gave me my name."

"What? Your name? I don't get it," Dean said.

"I was never a name before that. I was a number. It dehumanizes you."

"Crazy sons of bitches," Dean muttered.

"No, they actually did that to concentration camp inmates in Nazi Germany," Sam told him. Jane smiled wanly up at him. "Go on," Sam said softly.

"My brother, Jarod, who had escaped from The Centre some years before, found out about me and what was happening and mounted a rescue mission. He saved me." She sighed. "I'm not perfect. Maybe I will never be. I don't know. But now I work for my brother. For the Onyssius Foundation. We help people."

Sam blinked. He'd heard of the foundation. It was also a research facility designed to help humanity. But the foundation's CEO was never photographed and he never gave interviews.

"Your brother's the CEO?" he asked.

"Yes."

"So I'm guessing when you heard about the accidents here, you started doing a little digging."

Jane nodded. "We found out Beckett was buying up neighbouring properties. And then the police started investigating Anne and we knew we couldn't leave her defenceless." She gave another wan smile. "But ghosts ... well, that's a little out of our league." She huffed. "Wait til I tell Jarod. He's going to blow a fuse."

"Why?"


	6. Chapter 6

Just as Jane began telling them about some of the things she did as a Pretender, there was a shrill ringing from her computer.

"The video phone," Jane muttered. "Probably Jarod."

"Your brother?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. He likes to check up on things every day. It's not that he doesn't trust me, it's just that he ..."

"Doesn't trust you?" Dean said with a smirk.

"Yes. No. No, it's nothing like that. He ... worries, I guess. That I'll take a step backwards. Especially after ..."

"After what?" Dean asked.

The ringing became more insisted. "Uh, I should get that."

Jane stood up and went to the laptop, pressing a couple of keys.

"Jane? What took so long?"

"Uh, I was having a discussion with my new colleagues here."

"Colleagues?" Jarod sounded puzzled.

"Yeah, Dean and Sam Winchester. They're hunters."

"As in ..."

"Ghosts. Demons."

Jarod chuckled. "They don't exist, Jane. These guys are conning you."

"I don't think so Jarod. A ghost tried to kill me last night."

"What?"

She continued as if her brother hadn't spoken. "And Dean and Sam believe that a ghost is what's causing all these accidents."

"That's impossible. Listen, the reason I called was we got something more on Beckett. He's tried the same trick before, in another town."

"Oh?"

"Broots managed to pick up some information from Albuquerque. Same MO, different property. Only when he was done with the property development, he left town. Then his business partners heard that one of the former property owners died under mysterious circumstances."

Jane looked up at Dean and Sam, who were listening with interest.

"Yeah, well if Beckett is behind the accidents here, then we think we might know how he's doing it. We'll take care of it, Jarod."

"Take care sis. Don't do anything stupid."

"As if I would."

"Need I remind you what happened in Metropolis?"

"Am I ever going to live that down?" she said, rolling her eyes.

"Nope."

"Goodbye, Jarod."

"The info we found on Beckett's on your email," he promised.

Jane looked up at Dean and Sam. Sam looked askance at her.

"Sounds like Beckett plays for keeps," he said.

"Yeah," she nodded.

Dean was looking at her curiously. "Metropolis?"

Jane sighed and sat down between the brothers. Sam got up and poured some more coffee. "It's kind of what I was going to tell you before Jarod rudely interrupted. I went back to Metropolis after Jarod got me out of the Centre. Only it was a few months later. I went through months of therapy where I could have gone either way. Either become a productive member of society, or a sociopath. I chose the former," she clarified for them.

"Anyway," she said with a sigh, "there was this guy. Oliver. We hit it off in a big way. I guess you could say he was my one big step on the path to humanity. And I blew it big time. I went back to Metropolis intent on stopping Lex for good."

"Lex?" Sam frowned.

"Mm," she said, sipping the coffee. "Lex Luthor. He was the one who bought the Centre and tried to use me to get to my friend's abilities. Anyway, I decided to use my previous position inside the Centre to try to con Lex into believing I was on his side. The only thing is, I didn't tell Oliver what I was doing. When the truth finally came out, he took it badly. Accused me of using him." She sighed heavily. "And he was right."

"I don't know," Sam mused. "I mean, maybe not. I mean, maybe it was about protecting him. And your friend with the abilities. If they knew that it was all a con, then they might have let something slip and it would have wasted all that effort. That's how we would have played it. You have no idea how many people have got hurt just by virtue of the fact that they know we're hunters."

"Yeah, like last night," Dean said.

"No, last night was different," Jane pointed out. "Beckett sent that ghost after me because he thought I was trying to get in on his action. It was the best cover I could think of."

"Still," Sam told her, "if we hadn't been here, you might have died."

"Yeah."

Sam saw the glazed look in her eye and realised she was remembering. It couldn't have been the worst she'd been through, judging from what he'd seen in the scars on her back. Despite how cool she seemed about it, it was clearly an extremely traumatic experience and no matter what she said, she was not over it. She might not ever be over it.

Maybe they'd been through hell themselves. But it seemed like Jane had gone through her own personal hell. And everything she said made sense to him. It explained a lot about how she could go through so many mood swings the way she did. How she could be cool one minute, jovial the next, and then a complete bitch.

Dean was thinking along the same lines. Something about Jane brought out the protective instinct in him. He'd had a tough experience in Hell, until Castiel had pulled him out. He'd endured torture like no one ever knew. But back on Earth, he was at least whole. Well, physically at least. Jane's scars were there for all to see, if they looked close enough. They weren't just internal.

He admired her strength. Yes, she was an incredibly beautiful woman, and he was very attracted. But it wasn't just her beauty that got to him. It was that strength of character. She had taken the worst of what had happened to her in that god-awful place and had chosen to help people. That was something to be admired.

Jane attracted his attention.

"What's the game plan?" she asked.

Sam sighed. "Not much we can do until tonight. We can do a bit of research, find out where the poor man is buried."

"And then we burn the bones," Dean told her. "What about Beckett?"

"Well, since there was nothing in his office, I'm guessing he holds the talisman on him. But unless we start shadowing Beckett, I doubt whether we'll find it anytime soon."

The three decided they should lock up the house and get some sleep. They would need it if they were going to find the grave that night. Neither Sam nor Dean were keen on leaving Jane on her own, since the ghost had tried to kill her, so they decided the best place was in the living room. They dragged mattresses down from some of the rooms and slept on them on the floor. Each of them had a weapon of some kind right next to them.

But as was usual for Jane, she began tossing and turning. It seemed like no matter what she did, she couldn't escape the nightmares, which she knew to be memories. Dean, for his own part, was similarly tossing and turning. And wasn't it ironic, Jane thought, that the only time she ever got any peace was when she had lain in the arms of the only man she'd thought she could ever love. And she had betrayed that love.

Still shuddering from the fading memory of her most recent nightmare, Jane sighed and got up. Sam was snoring. He had a deviated septum and sometimes it caused him to whistle through his nose. They'd all been asleep for about three and a half hours, which was probably the most Jane had ever slept since leaving Metropolis that last time.

Dean noticed she was gone from her mattress and got up to go look for her. He found her in the kitchen, making hot chocolate.

"A little warm for that," he commented.

"I don't know. I find it soothing. Jarod and I used to sit out on the porch just drinking hot chocolate and chatting. He really got to like chocolate when he escaped the Centre. It wasn't something we were allowed."

Dean realised that even though he'd spent much of his life on the run, hunting demons, he still had many of the simple pleasures that Jane and her brother had obviously never had until they left the Centre.

"Hard to imagine what you and your brother must have gone through," Dean commented, accepting the mug she handed him.

"We missed out on a lot. Neither of us really had a chance at a childhood. Jarod makes up for it though. I have a niece and a nephew. Twins. Jarod spends a lot of his free time just generally enjoying their childhood and having his own right along with them."

"Jarod sounds like a great guy."

"He is. He gets a little maudlin sometimes. Oh hell, I mean, I know I can be a bitch sometimes. But at least he has Parker. That's his wife," she clarified.

"Oh. You never thought ...?"

"I did. With Oliver. But, I don't know, maybe I wasn't ready. You know?"

Dean nodded. "It's difficult sometimes. For Sammy and me. We're on the road a lot so we don't really have time for bonding. Except with each other. And you know what siblings are like. We fight too." He grinned sardonically. "There was this one time, when I came back from Hell, and Sammy, well, he gave me what for. I mean we're talking real fist fight action and ... what?"

Jane was looking at him curiously. "When you say Hell, you actually mean ..." She pointed down toward the floor.

"Yep. Fire, brimstone, the rack."

Jane winced. Dean realised he was being just a bit too casual about it.

"Look, it was a couple of years ago. And, you know, we're always trying to fight the good fight. Against demons and whatnot. We're a bit like Buffy, except without the cool quips and the fact that she's a chick."

"I've seen that program," Jane grinned. "It's very good." She looked again at him. "You don't think women can fight?"

"I think that women lack a certain something in the brawn department. But, I don't know, I guess chicks are smarter, in some ways."

And that had to have been a big admission for him. Jane took her hot chocolate out to the back porch and Dean followed her. They sat out in the sun.

"So, tell me about Hell," Jane said.

"Not much to tell, really. Time kinda works differently down there. I mean ten years is like a month up here. I was gone about four months."

"So you spent forty years there?"

"And everyday it was the same thing. They'd put me up on the rack, tear me to shreds, torture me until I screamed, and killed me all over again. The next day they'd start over. And I resisted for thirty years. I told them all to stick it where the sun shone. And then one day I didn't."

"Still, thirty years is a long time to withstand that kind of pain."

"My father stood it longer. Apparently."

"That isn't a bad reflection on you, Dean. Do you know what Stockholm Syndrome is?

"Yeah, isn't that like when the kidnap victim starts to feel sympathy for their captor?"

Jane nodded. "There was a woman in the seventies. Patty Hearst. It was claimed she was kidnapped, possibly raped and tortured. She was the grand-daughter of William Randolph Hearst, the media magnate. It's the same guy Citizen Kane was apparently modelled on."

"What does this have to do with me in Hell?"

"I'm getting to that," she said, shushing him. "You see, Patty claimed in a court trial she was kidnapped by a group called the Symbionese Liberation Army. They were trying to rob a bank when they were caught. Patty was among them."

"That is nothing compared to what I went through. You don't get what I did. I took what they did to me and I did it to others. I became them."

"No, you're not seeing the bigger picture here. So what if you tortured souls? So what if you liked it? So did Patty. She became a terrorist. I don't know whether she was telling the truth when she said she was kidnapped, as I've never actually analysed the story. But it is plausible. The human mind is a powerful instrument Dean. And it will do anything to survive trauma. Even brainwash itself."

"Is that what you think? That I was brainwashed?"

"I think you convinced yourself that it was the only way to survive. So you fooled your brain into thinking that you liked doing it."

Dean shook his head. "I don't know."

"Well, I do. Dean for years I was nothing short of an automaton. I was given orders and I carried them out. You have no idea how close my brother came to locking me up for good in some institution, just to keep me from turning into the sociopath he feared I would be. Because when I first got out of the Centre, I had no idea what I was doing. I had no real independent thoughts. And I nearly killed a man."

"You mean the guy you let be tortured?"

Jane shook her head. "No. You see, years ago, not long after Jarod escaped the Centre with a couple of others, there was this incident at the facility where they kept me. A reporter got too close to the truth. And they wanted him silenced. They used me, tested me, if you will. Told me to go out and find the reporter and make sure he never got the chance to tell his story. Well, I did. I went after the reporter and made sure all his research disappeared. I was supposed to kill him, but even then, as a teenager, I couldn't kill a human being. Anyway, when I returned to the Centre, they punished me. It was weeks before I got out of the infirmary. Some of those scars you saw last night? They're the result."

Dean felt sick. She really had gone through hell. And she was right. What he'd done to survive Hell was understandable from the point of view she was coming from.


	7. Chapter 7

Sam woke and rolled over, slowly opening his eyes to look around the dim room. He wondered what time it was, then lifted his arm to look at his watch. It was around five, which meant he'd slept a good five hours.

As he sat up, he saw that the other two mattresses were empty. Jane and Dean must be around somewhere, he thought. He scratched the back of his head, frowning. He had a feeling there was going to be trouble between those two. He knew when Dean was attracted to someone, and he'd seen Dean's reaction after Jane had pushed him against the wall and kissed him. Never mind the fact that she'd had the hots for some guy in Metropolis. Jane was clearly the type of woman who knew what she wanted and knew how to get it.

He got up, pulling his jeans on, and stumbled slightly, his big form swaying until he found his balance. He'd spent most of his teenage years walking around with a feeling of gawkiness. Towering over all the other kids, even Dean when he turned sixteen, he'd felt like a freak for most of those years, like a lumbering giant.

He wondered if Jane had ever felt that way, coming from that place she'd described as a Hell on Earth. She was clearly very different. It wasn't just her intelligence, which Sam guessed was well above normal genius level, but the way she had been raised too. He would imagine that being raised in isolation, never having any experience herself of the outside world, it would have been a frightening place. Then again, if she'd been beaten the way she'd told them, then the rest of the world might have seemed light-hearted by comparison.

He could see how she could be attracted to Dean. He guessed she was pretty much a loner. Didn't really need companionship. Dean was the same way most of the time. He didn't lack for female company, when he wanted it, but it wasn't often that he did, if Sam was honest with himself. Dean knew the score. They spent far too much time travelling around, trying to beat off the forces of evil, to actually get that involved with anyone. And Dean was right. People tended to get hurt when they knew too much about the brothers.

Sam's thoughts rambled on as he made his way to the kitchen. There was evidence that Dean and Jane were about. Someone had made hot chocolate for two, by the look of it. There were two mugs in the sink and chocolate powder on the counter top. Sam sighed. So where were they?

He spotted that the back door was open and decided to wander out and check if they were there. But what he saw made him sigh even more. Dean and Jane were kissing. No, they weren't just kissing, they were making out. Dean's hand was under her top, clearly cupping her breast, and she was letting him.

It starts, Sam thought, with another sigh. He should have known those two couldn't keep their hands off each other.

He coughed to attract their attention. Dean quickly removed his hand and pulled away, not looking in the least embarrassed at getting caught.

"'Morning sleepyhead," he smirked at Sam as he turned and looked at his brother. Jane was straightening her clothes, also not at all embarrassed.

Sam watched as Jane got up, pushing her long dark brown hair off her face.

"You guys hungry? I'm starving. I'll make something to eat."

She moved past Sam into the house and he heard her grab a pan and rummage around in the pantry. As Dean went to get past Sam grabbed his brother's arm.

"What the hell was that?" he asked Dean. "You know we can't get involved ..."

Dean just stared at him. "This from the guy who slept with the demon chick. Jane knows the score."

"That's not the point, Dean. We don't have time for this. In a few hours, the ghost will be gone and so will we."

"You heard what her brother told her about Beckett. This guy's dangerous. If we don't stop him, he'll keep doing it."

"It's not our problem. Jane can handle it."

"I'm not leaving her to fight this guy alone." Dean was insistent. "Jane thinks this guy should be taught a lesson and I kind of agree with her. So you go ahead. Take care of the ghost and leave if you want, but I'm sticking around."

Jane came out. "What do you guys fancy? I found some bacon and sausages?"

Dean smiled. "I'll give you a hand, Jane," he said, pushing past Sam.

Sam sighed again as he watched Dean and Jane work in the kitchen. Even then they couldn't stop touching. Dean would brush up against Jane, his hand on her butt, palming the cheek. Then he would see Sam watching and would smirk at him.

Jane would do the same, deliberately moving so she would brush against him, hand touching him. They continued to flirt with each other, knowing there wasn't a thing Sam could do about it.

After they'd eaten, they spent a little more time researching the local cemeteries. Jane guessed since the ghost had been a Chinese man, he would have been buried in a particular section of the cemetery. There was one a reasonable distance from the house which seemed to fit the bill.

There wasn't much planning to do, but they still had to wait until dark before they could go to the cemetery. So Jane began to outline her own plan to them.

"Look, we know Beckett is using something to control the ghost, and once you burn the bones, it's not going to take long before he realises it's not working and he'll try something else. So we start with following Beckett. Trying to figure out his usual haunts and watching him. He must keep the talisman or whatever it is on him. So first things first, we figure out what he's holding then find some way to get it off him."

"Sounds like a plan so far," Dean commented.

"Next, I suggest we try giving him a taste of his own medicine. Beckett has an apartment downtown."

"What are you thinking?" Sam asked.

"A haunting."

"Hey, whoa, no way," Sam protested, and he was relieved to see that Dean was nodding in agreement with him. "First of all, it would open up a can of worms. Ghosts can't be controlled, no matter how much you think they can and ..."

"Will you let me finish," Jane told him. "I'm not suggesting a real haunting. I'm suggesting we create one. A simulation, if you will. And I know just how to do it." She turned her laptop around and showed them exactly what she was thinking of doing. Dean watched the simulation she'd set up on her laptop and began to grin.

"Yep. That'll do it. That'll hit the son of a bitch where it hurts."

By the time they'd finished talking, it was dark. They grabbed their gear and left for the cemetery. Jane went with them. After all, Dean reminded Sam, the ghost had tried to kill her.

Sam was actually relieved she was with them when they began searching the cemetery. Especially the section where the Chinese had been buried. Some of the graves were not written in English.

"Oh god," he moaned. "It's in Mandarin."

"Actually," Jane said, pointing to one marker. "That one's in Cantonese."

"You can read Chinese?" he asked, incredulous.

"Also speak it. Spoken Chinese is usually called _Zhōngguó Y__ǔ__wén. _It encompasses the ethnic languages of about six different groups. Then, of course, there's Mongolian, Vietnamese. China has about 293 different spoken languages – well, one of them's a dead language."

"Don't tell me you know all 293?" Dean said, looking at her admiringly.

Jane rolled her eyes at him. "I may be a genius, Winchester, but even I can't speak that many. I could probably interpret about five of the common ones, but as for the rest ..."

"So how many languages do you speak?"

Jane looked thoughtful as she began rattling them off.

"Let's see: French, Italian, Spanish, Latin, Latin American, Puerto Rican, Japanese, Russian, Mandarin, Cantonese ..."

"Okay, okay, we get the picture. Show off!" Dean muttered. Jane just grinned at him. She took the flashlight and began reading some of the grave markers. Most of the graves were written with name and date of death, and the person's age. As Dean and Sam watched, she walked through the graves, showing no signs of fear about where she was or what they were about to do.

After about half an hour of searching, she found the grave.

"Here," she said. "It's here."

The three began digging, finding a coffin that was less a coffin and more of a box that had been crudely built and nailed shut.

"You open it," Dean told Sam.

"You open it," Sam returned. "I did it last time."

"Bitch!" Dean growled.

"Jerk!" Sam growled back. But it was the first time in a long while they'd used that little ritual and it kind of felt good to be able to bring themselves back to a time when it had just been about chasing ghosts and demons and not about going up against the true forces of evil.

"Oh god," Jane groaned. "I'll open it." She jumped down into the grave, taking the shovel and breaking the wooden slats. Dean shrugged at Sam and watched as she pulled open the coffin.

Sam wondered for a moment if the ghost would appear, once it had figured out what they were doing. He was sure this was too easy. Something always tended to go wrong at these things.

As his breath started to mist over, he groaned. Sometimes he hated being right.

"Dean," he called out in warning. Dean picked up his shotgun and cocked it. Jane looked up as she scrambled out of the hole and went to grab the iron bar Dean had given her. But she had no time to react as the ghost appeared behind her and grabbed her throat.

"Dean," she choked.

She was lifted into the air and thrown clear across the cemetery, tumbling to the ground. Sam noted with relief that it was soft ground and not another grave or else, genius or not, she would end up with broken bones. She looked dazed, but wasn't knocked out.

Dean lifted the shotgun and fired before the ghost could do any more damage to Jane. Sam, meanwhile, had grabbed the can of salt and was salting the bones. In many ways, he felt sorry for the ghost, and hated having to do this. But there was no other choice. Beckett couldn't be allowed to get away with this, and the fact that he'd used a ghost to do it was just wrong.

Dean had shot at the ghost and was looking around, waiting for the ghost to re-appear. Jane had staggered to her feet, shaking her head, but it was clear the ghost had been told she must die or else. Dean ran over to her, grabbing the iron bar and handing it to her. They both stood back to back.

"Hurry, Sam," Dean called.

"I'm going as fast as I can," Sam muttered as he shook the contents of the can over the grave. He had no time to think about what the ghost was doing and wasn't prepared for the shove, or the sharp blow to the back of his head. Reeling, he turned, trying to grab his own weapon. The lighter.

Dean was looking around frantically. The ghost had become invisible, which was going to make it harder to fight it. He kept his back to Jane as he wielded his shotgun, knowing she was holding the iron bar like a baseball bat, her fingers curling around it tightly.

"Keep your back to me. That way he can't sneak up on you," he advised.

Jane was a hot chick, and super smart, but he realised she knew when to shut up and take advice, especially when it was about something that she knew nothing of. For all her smarts, he figured there were still some things she needed to learn, and hunting was one of them. It was kind of cool, he decided, that he could be the one to teach her.

He let his thoughts distract him for a moment. Still keeping a wary eye out for when the ghost would rematerialise. But he thought about the woman at his back. Yeah, she was really hot all right. And so what if she was still getting over some jerk. He figured the best way to get over it was to get right back on the horse, so to speak. And man, he thought, she would give me one hell of a ride.

She'd confessed that while she knew all the technical stuff about sex before she'd met jerk Oliver, she had still been a virgin. She'd been allowed to learn about sex for training purposes, but actually experiencing it herself had been a no-no in the Centre. But she and Prince Asshole had done some experimentation and she'd since read about some of the kinkier sides of sex. Dean couldn't wait to try some of these out on her.

Concentrate, Dean told himself. He looked around. Come on, you son of a bitch. Come get me. He could see Sam was scrambling for the lighter. He'd been hit from behind. The ghost knew what was about to happen and was trying to stop it.

"Dean," Jane said behind him. She had seen the attack on Sam. Together, still back to back, they headed over. Dean lifted the shotgun, ready for anything as Sam was hit again and he rolled on the ground. The lighter in his hand was dropped and Dean wasn't sure where it went. But Jane seemed to have the uncanny ability to predict the unpredictable and she ran.

"Jane, no!" Dean screamed at her. But as she ran she swung the iron bar and it seemed to collide with something. As Dean watched she bent down and grabbed something. The lighter. With a flick of her wrist, she ignited it and tossed it into the grave.

The ghost rematerialised, flames licking at its form. It gave what appeared to be a silent scream as it was engulfed. Flames licked at the accelerant on the bones and the salt, hissing as they burned. Sam lay on the ground, panting, looking as if he had gone several rounds with Mike Tyson. Dean threw the shotgun down and scrambled over to his brother, giving him a hand up.

"You okay?"

"Never better," Sam groaned. They both looked at Jane, who was watching the flames in the grave. She looked up at them, then walked over with a concerned expression.

"You guys all right?" she said. She had soot on her face and it looked like another bruise was forming on her jaw, but she was smiling.

"Perfect," Dean smiled back. "Just perfect."


	8. Chapter 8

Jane's research had found a bar that Beckett often went to when he wanted to relax. They each figured they had a little time before Beckett discovered they'd got rid of the ghost, but they still needed to figure out how he'd invoked the spirit.

Dean and Sam decided to check out the bar. It was also a good opportunity, Dean claimed, to make a little money. Jane looked at him.

"You hustle pool?" she repeated when he told her exactly how they made their money.

"Well, yeah," he said. "How else do you think we get around. We don't always use fake credit cards."

Jane shrugged, then looked at him thoughtfully. "You know, I could always get funding from the Foundation," she mused.

"Oh hell no," Dean said. "We work alone."

"And you'd still work alone. You'd just be paid for it."

Sam nodded. "It might be an idea," he suggested to Dean, who shook his head vehemently.

"No way."

Jane growled. Dean Winchester sure was stubborn, she thought. She watched them leave in the Impala, deciding she would join them later, once she had reported to Jarod.

She hadn't expected Parker to answer the call.

"Hey sis," she said.

Parker smiled. "Hey." She peered closer to the screen, frowning at Jane. "What's with the bruise?"

"Present from a ghost," Jane said wryly, telling her brother's wife what had happened the night before.

Parker nodded. "So it's true then," she said. "Jarod's been doing a lot of research into the supernatural. Spent all night last night on it. Didn't even come to bed."

Jane grinned. She knew when Jarod was that obsessed with something, not even sex with his gorgeous wife could distract him.

"Why am I not surprised?" she said.

"So tell me about this Dean?" Parker said, already picking up on something her sister-in-law had mentioned.

"Well, remember that episode on Friends, you know where Monica was talking about a hot guy she'd met?"

Monica had been very taken with a young man in the episode. Her exact words had been 'hummana, hummana'. Jane and Parker had sat and watched a Friends marathon on television one weekend when Jarod had had to go out of town. Jane loved that her sister-in-law was relaxed enough now that she could watch television. Jane had known very little about sitcoms until Parker had introduced her to them. She'd watched them a lot when she'd been pregnant with the twins, whereas when she'd been working for The Centre, television was something she had hardly ever watched.

"So he's hot?" Parker said.

Jane raised her eyes heavenward. "Oh yeah."

"Potential?"

"Not in the romantic sense, I guess. I mean, yeah, he's beddable, but he's not the type to stick around. But it's okay. I mean, I'm not exactly looking for a lifetime commitment, you know? Not after you know who."

Parker nodded. They didn't mention Oliver Queen, or what had happened between the couple, but Parker felt for her sister-in-law. She had known little about human relationships, and had been a virgin before sleeping with Oliver. She'd made a lot of mistakes in that relationship, but she'd come as close to love as Jane was capable of.

"Anyway, Dean's theory is, you gotta get back on the horse, and as soon as possible." Jane shrugged. "It's been over four months."

"Well, don't do anything I wouldn't do," Parker joked.

"Hmm, sis, in the old days there was nothing you wouldn't do."

"Ah, but that was before I married your brother."

As if he'd heard them talking about him, he strode into the room, putting his arms around his wife.

"Hey sis. If you don't mind, I'd like to steal my wife away."

"Oh?" Parker looked at her husband. "Got something in mind?"

He growled softly. "Maybe," he said. "The kids are in bed and I'm thinking I've been neglecting you lately."

As Jane watched, her brother and sister-in-law's expressions began to change from gentle teasing to love and tenderness.

"On that note," she said. "TTYL."

Parker, already in her husband's arms, didn't answer. She was too busy being kissed within an inch of her life.

Jane sighed, then brightened. Somewhere in a bar was a very hot guy who had been flirting hard out with her for the past two days, and no way was she wasting that opportunity. Grabbing the key to her Mustang, she pulled on her leather jacket and went out.

She entered the bar and found Sammy sitting on a stool, drinking a beer. She slid onto the stool and ordered her own, looking around the darkened bar. It was busy. There were at least a dozen or more guys lined up at the bar drinking. A few of them looked her way, checking her out, but she ignored them. She sipped her beer from the bottle, watching a group playing pool on the four pool tables in the next room. Dean was playing a big guy in a cowboy hat and dirty jeans. It looked like he was winning.

As she watched, Dean pocketed the balls, then grinned up at the guy, holding out his hand. The big guy looked annoyed, but handed Dean a wad of cash. Jane snickered. The cowboy did not look impressed at finding out Dean was a hustler.

"Any sign?" she said. She hadn't seen Beckett anywhere.

"Not yet," Sam said.

She sipped her beer and noticed Dean coming up behind them. He tapped on the bar. "Yo, Sammy, dude, where's my beer?"

Jane looked at him, then pulled some cash out. "I got this." She gestured to the bartender, leaving the cash on the bar.

"I don't need a girl buying me drinks," Dean said, sounding affronted.

Jane growled and took the bottle of beer and shoved it in his hand.

"First of all, I'm not 'a girl'. I'm the same age as you. Second, drink your goddamn beer."

Dean smirked. Jane moved from the stool.

"Show me how to play," she said, wandering over to the one pool table that wasn't being used.

"You mean you don't know?"

"It's not something I ever really thought about," she said. She picked up a ball and rolled it across the baize. "It's all physics and geometry, right?"

"You really have never played before," Dean said. He grabbed the triangle and racked up. "Now the object of the game is to sink your balls before your opponent, finishing with the eight ball. Whatever ball you sink first, that's yours. If you get a solid, that's like this," he added, holding up the five, "you gotta sink the rest in the group. If you sink a stripe, that's a foul and you lose points. If you sink the eight, that's another foul. If you sink the cue ball – that's this," he said, holding up the white ball, "you lose a turn."

Jane nodded. She watched as Dean took a cue stick, looked it over by holding it up as one would hold a rifle, checked its weight, and handed it to her.

"I'd say that's your speed," he told her. He picked up another stick, then chalked it at the top and handed the chalk to her.

"So how do you decide who starts?"

"Well, we can either toss a coin or lag it."

Jane cocked an eyebrow questioningly at him. He grinned, and showed her, taking a ball and lining it up at the top of the table. "Whoever hits the rail first," he told her, touching a finger to the one nearest him, "gets to break."

"Then we lag," she said, taking a ball of her own. She watched what he did as he crouched over the table, lining up his shot, the stick running smoothly through his fingers. She tried to copy his movement but it seemed awkward.

Dean looked at her, frowning. "Relax," he said. "Loosen your grip."

He put his stick down and came up behind her, showing her the hold. "Let it run smoothly through your fingers. Think of it as stroking. Like you would stroke a ..." he trailed off as Jane shuddered, hearing the sexual innuendo in that statement. "Uh, yeah. Like that," he said, going back to his own cue. "Ready?"

She nodded. They hit simultaneously and watched as the two balls rolled down to the opposite rail and slowly back toward them. Dean's made it first. He turned to her, grinning.

"Looks like it's my break."

She watched as he set up, then lined up the cue ball to break. His stick seemed to be an extension of his arm as he let it slip smoothly through his fingers, stroking it lovingly as he took the shot. The ball was hit dead centre, fast and hard toward the assembled balls. One of the striped balls sunk in the corner pocket. He looked up, grinning.

He was incredible to watch, she thought. All fluid grace, his lithe body bent over the table as he cued up for his next shot. Damn, he was hot. Her fingers itched to touch that firm, supple ass, to feel those well-defined muscles beneath her. Shit, she thought, feeling what could only be evidence of arousal between her thighs. She licked her lips, wondering what it would feel like to have that cool, soft mouth on hers.

Jane heaved a sigh and mentally shook herself, trying to banish the images. Dean was looking at her.

"It's your turn," he said. Jane nodded and surveyed the table. She knew the key to the game was not just making the pocket, but also setting it up so her opponent wouldn't make it when their turn came around. She started to line up the shot, but the stick felt awkward in her hand.

Dean could see she was still trying to work off physics. What was it with smart chicks? he asked himself. But, damn she was hot. She was wearing tight jeans that hugged the curve of her ass, leaving nothing to the imagination. Her short leather jacket occasionally rode up, exposing creamy skin at her waist. He had been wanting to touch her from the moment they'd met. Wanting to know if her skin felt as soft as it looked.

Dean really wanted to lay a hand on that firm ass. No, focus on the game buddy, he told himself. As she leaned over the table, the jacket rode up even more and Dean found himself holding his breath.

Her angle was all wrong, he decided. As competitive as he was, he didn't want to win the game too easy either. Dean approached her, going to stand behind her and putting his hand on hers. He showed her the correct grip.

"Like this," he said. "Don't bend your elbow so much. Let it glide smoothly."

Damn, the heat was coming off her in waves. Dean realised she was just as aroused as he was. He could feel his arousal straining against the front of his jeans. She gasped when he pressed his full length into her. All sense of time left him as he let himself feel her, moulding his body to hers. She leaned against him, moaning softly. Dean couldn't take this anymore.

"You know what? Forget the game. Let's just get out of here," he said. "Sammy can keep an eye out for Beckett."

She nodded wordlessly, her breathing coming in rasps. Dean dropped the sticks on the table, ignoring the leering glances from the other men at the bar. He grabbed Jane's hand, going back to Sammy and tossing him the keys to the Impala.

Once outside, he pulled her against her car, kissing her hard. Jane responded with a groan.

"Keys?" Dean murmured, his mouth on her neck, gently biting.

"Pocket," she gasped. Dean quickly felt for the keys in her leather jacket, unlocking the car and opening it up, pushing her inside. She pulled him with her, going for a deep, punishing kiss, pulling him hard against her athletic body.

"Oh god," he cried out. He pulled himself away reluctantly, inserting the key in the ignition and starting the car. With a squeal of tyres, he peeled out, heading for the house. Jane moved closer, her hand creeping up his thigh to his groin.

"Geez, Jane, you wanna get us killed?"

"Put pedal to the metal, soldier boy," she commanded. Dean tried to ignore that hand creeping ever closer to his cock, trying to keep his concentration.

He groaned as she breathed in his ear, then sucked on his lobe, taking it gently between her teeth. His hands slid on the steering wheel and the car swerved dangerously. Dean continued resolutely on, his mind half on the sensations she was creating and the rest on the road. With a sigh of relief, he saw the large house come into view and he parked on the road with a screech of brakes.

Once out of the car, he dragged Jane up the stairs to her room, preferring that to the one he was sharing with Sammy. He was sure Sammy wasn't in the mood to see this kind of action. He had been oddly quiet in the bar. And fuck, he shouldn't be thinking about his brother when he had a hot, sexy woman in his arms.

She was pulling him onto the bed, stripping off his army jacket, then his shirt. Dean groaned as she moved down to his pants. He knelt on the bed, pulling off his boots, stripping off her clothes, his hand lingering on her sex. She groaned as he fingered her. She was already wet and pulsing with need.

Naked, she was just as gorgeous as she was dressed. Lush curves, slender waist, but not too skinny. Dean liked his women with a bit of flesh on their bones. He lay over her, kissing her hard. Neither one of them needed foreplay. That had all happened back at the bar. He knew now she had used the pool game as a way of getting his attention. It had worked like a charm.

Dean grabbed his jeans and took a condom from his pocket. He pulled the packet open with his teeth, watching her the entire time. Her eyes were dark, almost black with lust. It didn't matter that he knew almost nothing about her. All he knew was that he wanted her.

Jane watched impatiently as he put the condom on. She had wanted this from the moment she'd seen him. Dean was gorgeous. Ripped, tight muscles, six-pack abs, lean, tanned, intense eyes that seemed to look right through her. She was running out of adjectives to describe him. Oh hell, what did she care about all that? She wanted him inside her. Now.

She whimpered, whispering something unintelligible.

Dean didn't hesitate. He positioned himself over her, then rammed into her. She gave a gasp. God, she was so tight, enveloping him, squeezing him. Dean groaned as he pulled almost all the way out and thrust back in. Jesus, he thought. He'd slept with a lot of women, but very few had had him close to a climax without barely even trying. He felt Jane's legs lock around him as he pounded her into the mattress. He groaned again and came, shuddering. Jane gave a long moan as she followed, her body tensing as she milked him.

A little while later, Jane rolled over, straddling him, mouth on him. She licked a stripe from his navel and up between his pecs. Dean groaned.

"Jesus, you are trying to kill me," he muttered.

Jane just grinned, her long hair falling like a curtain around her face as she bent over him, her breasts tempting him. Dean lifted his head, trying to lick her, crooking his knees to support her ass. He was hard and getting harder. He grasped her by the waist, trying to pull her down, but Jane pulled his hands away and pushed them above his head.

"Uh uh," she said, tsking and shaking her head. "It's my turn to play."

She kissed him deeply, then buried her mouth in his neck, sucking on his skin. Letting go of his hands, she moved down, pushing his legs flat on the bed.

Dean inhaled sharply as he felt her mouth over him, blowing hot breath on him. The sensation was like an electric shock through his body.

"Bitch!" he growled at her teasing.

Jane just grinned and continued to blow gently. Dean pulled his hands down, trying to make her do what he wanted, but she just grabbed his wrists and pushed them back up over his head.

"No touching," she told him.

Oh she was so going to get it, he told himself. But then she licked him and his eyes rolled in the back of his head.

"Guh!"

"Say something?" she teased, before swallowing him and oh, jesus, he thought. This was too good. She was entirely too good at this. She'd clearly had some practice at this. Dean squeezed his eyes shut, grabbing the headboard to keep from touching her as he thrust his hips up. She made a noise of satisfaction deep in her throat and it vibrated on his cock, sending him teetering on the edge.

"I'm going to ..." Dean called out, and Jane quickly pulled off. Dean had barely a moment to recover as she grabbed a condom and put it on him. Then she was scooting up the bed and lowering herself down on him. He swore loudly

Jane just yelled in return, clearly just as far gone as he had been and she flung her head back as she rode him into a shattering climax.

Jane collapsed on top of him with a long, satisfied sigh.

XXXXX

Sam returned from the bar, having seen all he needed to see. Part of him was annoyed that Dean had left him to it. And he was pissed off that with all the warnings he'd tried to give his brother, Dean had ignored them all.

As he entered the house, he heard the creak of bedsprings above, then Dean screamed out a curse.

Sam sighed. Okay, so it was hypocritical, he thought. After all, he'd slept with Ruby. And Jane knew the score. But they had a job to do and the three of them couldn't afford this kind of distraction.

Making himself a cup of hot chocolate, Sam drank it, sitting at the table and brooding. He'd seen Beckett with the talisman when the property developer had come to the bar. The man clearly went to the bar looking for more potential sellers, doing his best to blend in.

The question now was, how did they get the talisman from Beckett?

Sam sighed, rinsing out his mug and putting it in the dishwasher. Clearly Jane and Dean weren't that interested tonight and he supposed they weren't exactly in a hurry anyway, now that the ghost had been taken care of.

He went up the stairs, trying to be as quiet as possible. The door to Jane's room was wide open. They'd obviously forgotten to close it in their lust. He couldn't help himself, glancing in, feeling like a pervert as he saw them both sacked out, naked. They hadn't even bothered to pull the sheet up to cover them.

Dean was right about one thing, Sam decided. Jane was certainly hot. And he had to admit his brother had taste when it came to the women he slept with. Sam turned away from the bedroom and went to the one he was sharing with Dean, closing the door behind him.


	9. Chapter 9

Jane was already up when Sam went downstairs the next morning. She smiled at him.

"Coffee?"

"Thanks," he said, taking the mug she handed to him. "I, uh, didn't figure you'd be up so early," he said, scratching the back of his neck. Just how did he broach the subject of her sleeping with his brother, anyway?

"I'm an insomniac. I don't sleep much. Dean's still out to it," she told him.

How did she know he was wondering where Dean was? He had that weird sense that she was reading his mind again. She had this way of looking at him as if she was either reading his thoughts or something else entirely. Either way, it was unsettling.

"Don't do that," he said.

"Don't do what?" she returned with a smirk.

"I really don't like it when people try to read my mind."

"Sam," she sighed, putting her cup in the sink, "why don't you just say it? You have a problem with what happened last night."

"I just think you and Dean ... I didn't like it."

"The fact that we left you to it or the fact that I slept with him?"

"Both."

"Look, I know the score when it comes to you guys. You travel around from town to town. Having a family – that's obviously something you boys are never going to get to do. And I'm cool with that. Hell, all I wanted with Dean last night was a good time and that's what I got. End of story."

"It's so easy for you, isn't it, Miss Pretender? You can just walk away like you don't feel anything. You use people and you don't care."

"Well, if I was using Dean last night, then he was just as much using me. Whatever you think, Sam, sex is still a two-way street. And why the hell shouldn't I at least enjoy myself? I've slept with a total of two guys in my life. Yet you're acting like I'm some kind of slut!"

"You really want to know what I think?" Sam said. "I think you're still in love with that other guy and you think you can forget him by sleeping with someone else. Like my brother."

"Since when are you so protective of me, Sammy?"

Dean ambled into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee, curling an arm around Jane's waist. He put his cup down on the counter and turned to Jane.

"'Morning gorgeous," he said, pulling her around to face him, tilting her head to kiss her.

Sam turned away, not wanting to watch this obvious display of one-upmanship. Dean thought Sam was jealous because Jane was attracted to him, not Sam. But that was not the case. The fact was, despite everything she'd told them, Sam didn't completely understand Jane. He couldn't understand how someone could be so detached, so dispassionate. And he wondered if she was just playing another game. She was a Pretender, she'd said. Maybe she was just pretending to be one of the good guys.

"Who's up for breakfast?" Jane asked.

Dean immediately took her by the hand and led her to the table.

"You sit yourself down and relax. Me and Sammy will take care of this. Right Sammy?"

Sighing resignedly, Sam nodded and worked with his brother, making batter for waffles while Dean fried bacon, tomatoes and made scrambled eggs. It wasn't perfect, but it beat the food they got from the greasy spoon diners they usually ate at. Dean grinned, whistling tunelessly as he set the table, putting a pitcher of juice and a small jug of maple syrup on the table. Jane looked impressed.

"This looks great, guys."

"Yeah, not too shabby."

As they ate, Sam found himself watching Jane for any slip-ups. But she behaved like a woman who had spent the night well-fucked and was comfortable with the company of her lover. She also didn't act like she was expecting Dean to stick around. They continued to play with each other, flirting, but not seriously.

Eventually, Jane noticed he was watching her. Sam tried to play the innocent card, but it was the same as before. Jane had that uncanny way of seeing into his soul.

"You think I'm playing a game, Sam? Do you really think I'm that untrustworthy? Or that I would do something like that to you or your brother?"

"I don't know what to think," he admitted.

The point was, he had no idea why he felt this way about her. Why he kept teetering on the line between trusting her and not trusting her. Maybe it was because of the way Ruby had betrayed him. He'd actually liked Ruby. Slept with her. And she'd turned out to be like every other demon. Twisted and evil. And maybe he found it difficult to trust anyone who tried to get in between him and his brother.

"Tell me something, Sam," Jane said. "What makes you so different? What makes you so special?"

"When I was a baby, a demon murdered my mother and made me drink demon blood. It gave me powers. All so he could build a demon army. Cross the bridge between the human world and the demon world. I was supposed to lead that army."

"Like what, exactly?"

"Power to see the future. Telekinesis."

"Mmm. But I think there's far more to it than that. You're actually a very intelligent man, Sam. And I think if the Centre had known about you, you could have easily become one of us. A Pretender."

"Why? What's so special about The Centre?" Dean asked.

"Jarod thinks that they were trying to do something similar to what your demon friend did to Sam. Have you guys ever heard of the New World Order conspiracy?"

"A little. Why don't you explain it?"

"Isn't that like there's only supposed to be a certain number of people with the strength and the will to survive the apocalypse?" Sam asked.

"Bush described it as the New World Order. It's weeding out the weakest of us. Trying to create a world that's to their liking. To their way of thinking. It's almost like what Hitler tried to do in the Second World War."

"Only Hitler was out of his freaking mind," Dean commented.

"You've never met Parker's twin brother. Or Lex. You want to talk insane," Jane laughed. She turned to Sam. "So what happened after we left last night?"

"We were right. It's a talisman. I saw him pull it out last night when he pulled out his wallet to pay for a drink."

Jane looked thoughtful. "Jacket or pants?"

"Pants. Right rear."

"Hmm." Her eyes took on almost a glazed look. She was clearly thinking about something. "You guys ever picked a pocket?"

Dean gave her a look. "Are you kidding? We might run the occasional scam or hustle, but we ..."

"Then you need to learn. We have to get that Talisman away from him before he can use it to invoke another spirit."

"And you're suggesting we pick his pocket?" Sam asked.

"Exactly," she said with a mischievous grin. "And I know just how you're going to learn. Follow me."

She led them upstairs to the attic. In the corner, on the furthest wall of the old house, was an old mannequin. Dusting it off, coughing at the cloud of dust that rose into the air, Dean pulled it out. Jane found some old trousers and fitted them to the dummy then they put together a makeshift stand. Finally, Jane dug in an old trunk and came up with a little bell.

Back downstairs, they set up the dummy in the big living room.

"Most important thing," Jane told the two boys. "Do it without disturbing the bell. If Beckett feels you doing it, then it's over. Got it?"

"Why can't you do it?" Dean asked.

"Because Beckett knows what I look like. Besides, I'll be the one setting up the diversion."

"What diversion?" Sam asked.

"Did you think I printed up those cards just to con you guys? I wanted Beckett to think I was a rival developer. Real estate around here has been going for a song and developers would kill each other for a piece of the action." She backed away. "Now let's get moving."

She had obviously been reading up on the subject because she seemed to know what she was talking about when she drilled them on how to pick a pocket. This was one time when Sam was happy that she knew more than them. Even if she did act like an army drill sergeant. She was worse than their Dad.

As Sam made his fourth, or was it fifth? attempt, the bell rang, signalling that he'd failed yet again.

"Come on, Winchester, get with the program," she barked. "This isn't a game here. Beckett will kill you if he catches you. Now concentrate."

A dozen attempts later by both brothers and they were both tired.

"I don't see why I have to learn this as well," Dean grumbled.

Jane glared at him. "You don't?" She pulled on his shirt collar, pulling him into a deep, passionate kiss which had him looking dazed when they parted.

"Okay then," he said. He looked at Sam as he returned to work. He made a pass at the dummy, grabbing the fake talisman from the pocket without upsetting the bell and grinned at Jane. She just nodded.

"Nice. More like that and we're getting somewhere."

Sam laughed at Dean's crestfallen expression. He was obviously expecting more praise than that. Jane slapped the taller man on the arm.

"Laugh it up, chucklehead. So far you're batting 0 for 1. Batter up."

Sam rolled his eyes at the analogy and took his turn.

It was three hours before Jane was satisfied that they weren't going to screw this up. They headed out to the bar. The brothers took the Impala while Jane once again drove her Mustang. Dean and Sam hung back, not wanting to arrive at the same time. Sam watched as Jane sped off, driving way faster than the speed limit allowed.

"Damn, she drives like you Dean," he remarked.

Dean just smirked at his brother and patted the dashboard. "Don't worry, baby, I would never abuse you like that," he said in a soothing tone.

Sam just chuckled.

Once at the bar, they took up positions, watching the door while playing pool. Or at least pretending to. They saw Jane in the corner, a bottle of beer on the table. Dean sent her a look of appreciation. She was wearing tight jeans and a halter top that left little to the imagination. Sam could see Dean's eyes glazing over with lust. Even in the dim light of the bar.

"Dean," he whispered as he passed his brother to take his shot. "We're here to do a job, remember?"

"Doesn't mean I can't appreciate it," Dean returned. Then he tensed. Sam let his gaze casually fall over toward the bar. Beckett had just come in. He had ordered himself a whisky and had turned, looking over the patrons. He scowled when he saw Jane, who had just ambled over to get herself another drink.

Sam was close enough to hear their conversation.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he said. "Don't think I don't know what you're up to, Ms Smith. I know you're trying to con that old lady into selling to you."

"And how would you know that, Beckett?" she returned defensively.

Sam turned away, not needing to hear the rest of the conversation. He moved around the table. Beckett was still leaning against the bar and there was no way they could get to the pocket. He saw a flash of metal as Beckett pulled out his wallet and tossed some money onto the bar, continuing to talk to Jane.

Jane's gaze slid to the boys at the pool table, an unspoken signal for them to get closer. Dean moved in, running interference as they'd planned. If Sam failed to get the talisman, Dean would have to be back up, but meanwhile, he was to keep Beckett talking.

"Jane," he said.

Jane looked at him, glaring. "What?"

"What's going on?" He grasped her arm as if to start pulling her away from Beckett.

"The lady and I were talking," Beckett growled.

"Yeah, well, this lady and I have some unfinished business."

"Unfinished business? Is that what you call it? Well, you got what you wanted. Now I'm busy. Fuck off!"

Sam moved in as Beckett turned. Jane smiled up at the businessman.

"Now I can be reasonable," she said. "I think we can work out something equitable."

Dean angrily grabbed her arm. Jane turned back to him.

"What the hell?"

"I told you we have unfinished business."

"Stop it! You're hurting me!" she growled.

That was Sam's signal. He swiped the talisman as Dean made sure no one else in the bar could see what he'd done, then put it in his pocket. He turned and walked out the door, going out to the Impala and driving off to the house.

Twenty minutes later, Dean and Jane pulled up in her Mustang. They came in, whooping.

"That was awesome!" Dean was chuckling.

Jane laughed in delight. "You guys are good. Did you see his face? I really thought he was going to clock you one," she giggled at Dean, who just leered at her.

They turned to Sam, who had put the talisman on the table.

"So now what?" Jane asked. "I'm guessing you guys have a ritual or something you need to do?"

"Uh, yeah," Sam said. He grabbed John Winchester's diary and began mumbling an incantation in Latin. It would remove the spell used by the talisman, making it safe to break it. Dean and Jane watched in silence as he continued to chant. There seemed to be a soft breeze in the house which blew their hair gently. Then it was over.

"That's it," Sam said, closing the book. He picked up the talisman and broke it. But Dean and Jane were clearly no longer interested in the talisman. They were lip-locked, hands on each other's bodies, practically ripping their clothes off. Sam sighed. Part of him knew he was jealous. Hell, he hadn't had any action lately. He turned away from the couple and went to curl up in front of the tv, not even registering when the pair went upstairs.


	10. Chapter 10

Dean hadn't even made it inside the room before Jane was on him, grabbing his shirt collar, practically ripping it to shreds in her haste to remove it.

"Easy there, tiger," he said. "I don't have that many shirts."

"I'll buy you a new one," she growled, pushing him on the bed, then leaping on top of him, kissing him hard. He put his hands up behind her head, holding her as he sucked on her lip.

"God, you're so damn hot," he moaned, grabbing the tie at the back of her halter top – the only thing keeping it in place.

"And you're gorgeous," she returned, teeth biting down on his bottom lip almost hard enough to draw blood.

"God!" he cried out, before rolling her over, hands on her. The heat rose from her in waves and even through the tight jeans, he could smell her arousal. It seemed to secrete through every pore.

Jane's hands were busy at his waist, pulling at his belt, jerking it open. Then she was undoing the button, pushing his jeans down past his hips. She smirked up at him.

"Commando? Feeling lucky Winchester?" she said.

"Maybe," he said, with a wink.

What she did next surprised even him. Especially when she slid down the bed, tilting her head up and took him in her mouth.

"Mm," she hummed, making it sound as if she was getting a tasty treat.

Dean barely had the presence of mind to keep his hands on the bed and his knees either side of her head as he lowered himself further down toward her in answer to the light pressure on his hips. He was panting, the unrelenting heat of her mouth on him already driving him wild.

It said much about his control that he managed to hold himself so he wouldn't force his way down her throat, but it was a battle in itself. She kept pushing the envelope, taking him in further and it was all he could do not to fuck her the way she seemed to be demanding. Not every girl could take it, but Jane seemed to having a damn good try!

Then the pressure and heat was gone, only to be replaced by a slightly lighter pressure as she moved up a little. God, he thought as she rubbed her breasts against him, and he grunted, willing himself not to come on her.

"Jesus woman!" he spluttered. "What the hell are you doing to me?"

He reached down and pulled her up, claiming her mouth in a searing, hard kiss that had them both panting for more. He fumbled with the zipper of her jeans, in too much of a rush to pull them down, thrusting his hand inside. She whimpered as he brutally thrust two fingers inside her, her body almost going into convulsions as desire flickered in her eyes, enlarging her pupils.

Jane rolled over so she was now on top and Dean removed his fingers. He panted as she pressed herself against him, then straddled his thighs, grinding down on him. It wasn't fair, he decided, that she still had her jeans on and he was naked. But oh god, he thought, the friction of the denim on him was driving him almost literally insane!

He mashed their lips together, fingers in her hair, pulling her down, using his grip on her hair to pull just a little harder until she moaned in protest.

"Get ... those ... jeans ..." he stuttered, his chest heaving. "Off. Get 'em off."

And oh, relief at last as Jane lifted herself long enough to push the jeans and her thong down and off, kicking them to the floor. Fully naked, she pressed herself against him and he found himself on that inexorable slide into home base. But the ref was calling time out and he howled in frustration.

"Condom," Jane was muttering.

"Party pooper," he muttered back, but felt blindly for his jeans, grabbing his wallet and picking out the small wrapped item. Jane's gaze was riveted on him as he stuck the wrapper between his teeth and ripped it open. He kept one hand on her back as he slid the latex over his shaft, shivering at the reaction.

Then Jane was moving over him once again, straddling his waist. She kept her brown-eyed gaze on him as she put a hand behind her to guide him into the space between her thighs. But just as he was thinking he would have it all, she stopped, teasing him with just that brief look at paradise, rubbing herself over the latex-covered head.

"Fucking tease," he muttered.

Jane looked up at him, fluttering her eyelashes as if to imply she was innocent. Innocent, my ass, he thought.

"God damn it, woman," he said.

"You swear an awful lot," she observed.

"To hell with you, bitch!"

"Now, now, let's not get testy, or I might just decide this treasure can stay buried."

Oh no, Dean wasn't going to put up with this crap!He grabbed her by the waist, rolling her over and pushing her down on the bed. With one hand on her wrists, he pushed them above her head. With the other hand, he guided himself in with one hard thrust, pulling out, then thrusting back in again.

"Ahh, Dean!" she cried out.

Letting go of her wrists, he levered himself up until he was almost on his knees. Jane lifted her legs to his shoulders so he could take her deeper and deeper until she was writhing wildly on the bed, panting heavily.

Muscles tensing, like knotted cords beneath his skin, Dean felt his entire body begin to shake in reaction as his seed spurt inside the rubber sheath. Lungs almost bursting with the need for breath that he hadn't realised he'd been holding, Dean collapsed against her and she gasped.

"God!" she moaned.

"What does he have to do with it?" Dean muttered, remembering his own run-ins with angels and their stupid holy war with Lucifer.

Lying together, sprawled on the bed, they both fought to recover. They heard the creaking of floorboards and realised Sam was coming up the stairs.

Dean pulled out, none too gently and Jane protested.

"Ow!" she said. She realised she was going to be sore after that little episode. "Hell, Dean, you don't go for half measures, do you?"

"You liked it," he said.

"Yeah, maybe, but jeez, I'm going to hurt in the morning."

"Quit complaining," he retorted.

Jane shoved him good-naturedly. Dean sent her a fierce stare that quickly turned to a cocky grin. Jane picked up a pillow and hit him with it. He chose to retaliate with one of his own and it quickly turned into a free for all. Dean lunged at her, tickling her until she was begging for mercy, and even then he didn't stop. He kept at her until she tried rolling away from him, ending up on the floor with a surprised look.

Dean laughed at her and she pulled him onto the floor with her, pushing him down on his back and straddling his hips.

"Thought you were beat," he said.

"I've got my second wind," she said, leaning down to kiss him.

As their laughter and sounds of sex drifted down the hallway, Sam groaned. He picked up a pillow and covered his head with it. It was pretty clear they would be going at it all night. He was never going to get any sleep!


	11. Chapter 11

Sam yawned as he made his way downstairs. He heard the clink and rattle of china. Jane was obviously up early again.

"'Morning," he said, grabbing a mug and pouring himself a hot coffee.

"Good morning," she said brightly. Too brightly for this early in the morning. "Hope we didn't keep you awake."

Sam just growled a reply, too sleepy for anything else. He sipped the coffee and sat at the table. They'd kept him awake most of the night. Even though the room he'd been sleeping in was at least two doors away, he'd still heard them. Moaning, groaning, panting, cursing. He was going to be glad when they'd done what needed to be done and Beckett was punished.

He looked up and sighed as Dean came into the kitchen. He looked as if he'd just been in the shower. His hair was wet.

"So, what's the game plan?" Dean asked as he sat down at the table with his own cup of coffee.

"It'll take me a while to write the program, but I'm thinking of going with holographic images. Now, you two will need to get me parts for the projector. I'll make a list of what I need."

"You really think this is going to work?" Sam asked.

"Why wouldn't it?" Jane asked.

Sam muttered under his breath. She was so confident. Too confident, he thought. Then again, she was clearly used to creating these scenarios. She must have looked at it from every angle.

Dean was smirking at him and he looked up. Jane's eyes were twinkling.

"Relax, Sammy. I know what I'm doing. And Beckett's about to get a lesson he won't soon forget."

The three of them quickly cooked and ate breakfast, then Jane made a list of the equipment she needed. Part of it also included a camera, to record the event. Sam had learned that when Jane's brother, Jarod, had done his Pretends in the past, he had used a camera to record confessions. While they probably weren't admissible in court, Jarod had also backed up the confession with solid evidence.

"Just how are we supposed to get the evidence against Beckett?"

"Remember that stuff Jarod emailed me?" Jane reminded him. "And yesterday I talked to one of Beckett's ex-partners. You know, the ones in Albuquerque. They gave me plenty of ammunition. Now, as soon as we've got everything ready, you guys will have to plant the stuff."

"And what are you going to do?" Dean asked.

"Me? I'm going to be the distraction." She smiled flirtatiously. "I'll call Beckett and set up a meeting."

"You better not be thinking what I think you're thinking," Dean growled.

"Geez, possessive much?" Jane growled back.

Sam watched as the two of them bickered back and forth. He should have known this was coming. When Dean was seriously attracted to a woman, he tended to get very possessive. And very jealous.

Sam couldn't really blame Jane. She had been pretty clear from the start that she knew the score. It was a shame, really. They spent so much time on the road, fighting demons. There wasn't room for anything more than the occasional one-night stand. But with Jane it was different. It was more of a 'one week stand'. And when the week was over and they'd done what they had to do, they would each go their separate ways.

With a sigh, Sam watched as Jane sauntered out, hips swaying. Dean followed, his eyes on her ass. For two people who knew this would never last, they sure weren't trying hard to stop.

Jane grinned as she sat down at her laptop and began working on the plan, while sending the boys out on their errands. Broots had helped her set up the system so she had the power to be able to do almost anything with it. All she needed was the equipment to make the holographic projections.

She had worked on a few simulations at The Centre, but none quite so elaborate as this. And it wasn't really about scaring Beckett. At least, not scaring him to death. Just frightening him enough to make him confess to what he'd done.

Beckett's ex-business partners had provided her with enough evidence to get the local authorities at least interested in Beckett's dirty dealings. She knew that if they looked deep enough, then Beckett's illegal activities would soon come to light. And she couldn't wait for that.

It took her roughly two hours to put together enough for the hologram. It was only a matter now of getting in to Beckett's apartment and setting things up. The boys would also get her a camera so she could record it. The disk would be turned over to the authorities.

She heard the door slam and looked up, staring open-mouthed at the figure standing there. She got up.

"What are you doing here?"

Jane, for once, was lost for words as she stared at Anne Kershaw. Dean and Sam picked that moment to come in behind the older woman.

"Uh," was all Dean could say.

Anne Kershaw used the crutches to manoeuvre herself into the living room and sat down on the couch.

"Guys, this is Anne." Jane went to the older woman. "Anne, this is Dean and Sam Winchester."

"What's going on?" Anne asked.

"I'm sorry. I hoped this would all be over before you were out of the hospital. Dean and Sam are helping me."

"To do what, exactly?" Anne still looked tired and ill.

"Take down the property developer who has been trying to force you out of your home," Dean said quietly, in a rare show of compassion. "We're really sorry," he said. "Jane told us what happened."

Anne looked at him, puzzled. "Oh, don't be silly," she scoffed. "I just had a little accident. That's all."

Jane shook her head. "That was no accident. Look, we can't get into explanations right now. But trust us, please. We are trying to prevent a very dangerous man from hurting you any more than he already has."

"Mr Beckett? Oh, but he's such a nice man."

"No, he isn't," Jane told her firmly. "He's a murderer."

Anne gasped. "How can you be so sure?"

Sam sighed. "Because we have the evidence to prove he's done something like this before." He handed the bags he was carrying to Jane. "The stuff you needed."

Jane nodded. "Sam, why don't you come and help me put this kit together. Dean, can you look after Anne?"

"Sure."

All flirting was forgotten as Jane and Sam worked closely together to build the holographic kit. For all Sam's doubts, he could see that Jane was more than competent. She knew her way around electronics. He supposed part of it was her Pretender training, but she had a single-minded focus which he had to admire.

She showed them exactly what she had in mind, laying out the plans of Beckett's apartment and telling them where they were to plant the equipment. It was going to be dark, since she was going to cut the power to Beckett's place, so there was no way he would be able to see the gear.

It was after five when Jane and Sam finally finished. Dean came in, Anne following him on crutches.

"I'm still not sure I believe all this nonsense," the woman said. "But Dean seems like a nice young man and I believe that you want to help."

Sam looked at his brother and grinned. Dean had always had a way with the ladies. Dean just grinned back.

Jane smiled. "Okay. Now, I'm going to go meet Beckett. I will signal you when it's safe to break into the apartment and when it's time to get out. Understood?"

"Yeah, we got it," Dean told her.

XXXXXX

They were waiting in the Impala half an hour later. Jane was meeting Beckett at a local cafe. She'd taken some of the recording equipment along to see what she could get out of Beckett.

Sam's cellphone beeped. "That's Jane. It's clear."

They ran to the building, moving around to the back to use the tradesmen's entrance. As Dean kept watch, Sam used the tools Jane had given him to unlock the door. Dean glanced around uneasily.

"Hurry up, Sam," he said.

"I'm going as fast as I can," Sam whispered. He wiggled the lock pick, hearing a satisfying click, and opened the door. They quickly slid inside, going up the stairs, avoiding the security cameras in the lobby.

There were more cameras in the hallway as they reached the tenth floor. They were relieved that Beckett's apartment was on one of the lower levels. The thought of climbing up another twenty flights of stairs was just too daunting, and it would have taken too long.

Watching carefully for the camera to change angle, they pressed themselves close to the wall, sliding along until they came to the door. Dean watched above as Sam crouched down, using the tools again to jimmy the lock.

Dean watched, his nerves on edge as the camera slowly began to pan in their direction.

"Come on Sammy," he whispered.

"We're in," Sam told him, opening the door. Relieved, Dean slipped in after his brother, his eyes still on the camera.

But they weren't in the clear yet. Beckett had an alarm system, and if they weren't quick enough, it was going to go off. Fortunately, Jane had downloaded the specs to the system Beckett was using. It was the same system for every apartment in the building, which was monitored by a security company.

Flipping open the code panel, Sam keyed in the manual override code and the system disengaged.

"Let's move it," he said, taking the gear out of the bag Dean was holding.

XXXXX

Jane surreptitiously glanced at her watch.

"Why should I trust anything you have to offer?" Beckett was saying.

"Ah, come on, Beckett, we're sitting on a goldmine of opportunity here. If I can convince the old lady to sell, just imagine the profits we'd make from razing that old house. And all the others around it. This is worth more than a retail development and you know it."

"Why now?"

"Because I saw what you achieved in Albuquerque."

Beckett sucked in a breath. "How do you know I was in Albuquerque?" he asked.

"I have my sources. Besides, I always make sure I do my research when I'm considering investing in anything. Even who my potential rivals might be."

Jane continued to talk to Beckett, getting into the Pretend. Beckett was a greedy man. She could tell. And he was about to pay for that greed.

Beckett excused himself to go to the bathroom and Jane saw her chance, seeing his cellphone on the table. She quickly grabbed it, replacing it with a similar model. It wouldn't do to have Beckett call security just when things started to get rough.

It was dark by the time she drove to meet the Winchesters. She parked behind them and got into the Impala.

"All set?" Dean asked.

"Yup. It's time to turn up the juice and see what shakes loose," she said with a grin.

Dean groaned. "I cannot believe you just quoted that movie," he said. Jane had clearly watched a few movies in the months since her rescue from the Centre. But even he wouldn't have recommended Beetlejuice. Except that it had Winona Ryder in it. Dean had always thought the girl was hot, despite the fact that the character she had been playing was just plain weird.

Jane ignored him, watching the action on the screen of her monitor. Sam was leaning over the back of his seat, his own gaze on the monitor.

"Beckett's just got in," Jane told them. She touched a few keys on the keyboard. Beckett was turning the light switches off and on, but Jane had already cut the power.

She turned the holographic projector on, then adjusted the air con in the apartment. An icy blast hit Beckett, who had turned in the direction of the hologram.

"What's that? Who's there?"

The recording Jane had made was voice activated.

"You murdered me," the voice said.

"No. What are you talking about? Is someone there?"

Jane tapped another few keys and the second projector they'd planted activated. Another chilly blast and Beckett stepped back.

"Greed will destroy you."

Beckett picked up his phone and dialled, but the phone just bleeped. He tried the phone in the apartment but all he could get was a busy signal.

The 'ghosts' began talking at once, taunting him. Beckett picked up a knife from the kitchen and tried slashing the air with it.

"Leave me alone!" he cried out.

The 'haunting' went on for several minutes, until it became clear that Beckett was out of his mind with fear. Then Jane went in for the kill. Anne's surprise appearance in the house had had perfect timing.

"Did you think the spirit world would let you get away with what you've done?" she taunted in the hologram. "Do you even care how many lives you've destroyed? How many innocent people have suffered because of your games? Do you?"

"No, I didn't ... I swear to God."

"God isn't the one you'll have to answer to," Anne taunted him.

Jane turned up the heat, blasting like a furnace, adding one final hologram. She grinned at the two Winchesters. Knowing someone who had actually been there just made it seem all the more real. And the image she projected was of hellfire. Beckett broke out in a sweat as he saw the hologram grow bigger. He really began to think he was seeing the real thing.

"No, please. I don't want to go."

"Then tell me what you did," the ghost of Anne screamed at him. "Tell me what you did and I might still be able to save your wretched soul."

"All right," he cried. "I did it. I arranged all those accidents. I invoked the spirit of a dead man and controlled him with a talisman. But I don't have it anymore. I don't know what happened to it."

"Do you know what happens when you lose control of a spirit?" the ghost taunted. "Do you?"

"Stop, please, stop. I'll do anything. Yes, I bullied people into selling me their homes. I got greedy. I wanted their land so I could develop it and make a killing."

"And what about Albuquerque?"

"I made a mistake. I never meant for anyone to die, you have to believe me. I just wanted to scare him, that's all. It was an accident."

Suddenly the lights snapped on in the apartment and the ghosts were gone. Jane, Dean and Sam were standing in the doorway.

"An accident?" she said coldly. "You asshole. You let your greed destroy the lives of innocent people. Because of you, they lost their homes. And because of you, one man is dead. Fortunately for Anne Kershaw, I managed to get there to stop it before she herself was killed by one of your 'accidents'."

"What the hell did you do?" Beckett asked, wide-eyed.

"Gave you a taste of your own medicine. Loser," Dean smirked.


	12. Chapter 12

Dean and Sam stayed another two days just to help Anne with some of the repairs to the house. Jane told the brothers that the Foundation was also going to step in and help restore the house to its former glory.

On their last day, Dean packed a picnic basket and a bottle of wine in the back seat of the Impala and coaxed Jane into coming out with him. She was looking extremely pretty in a short skirt and summer top.

"Don't wait up," he smirked at Sam, who just rolled his eyes.

As Dean opened the door for her, waiting for her to slide in, she grinned at him.

"Now why would I want to go anywhere with you in this piece of junk?"

"Hey, do not diss the car, lady," he told her, stroking the fender lovingly. He'd worked hard to restore this car after all.

Jane grinned again, knowing Dean would get riled very quickly if she insulted his car. "Like I said," she told him mischievously as he opened the door and ushered her in. "A piece of junk."

She heard Dean's growl as he walked around the car and got in the driver's side.

"Has anyone ever told you you can be a bitch?" he said, his blue eyes boring into her as he looked over before starting the car.

"Hmm, once or twice," she drawled, giving him a quick kiss.

He touched her jaw, flicking it with a crooked finger.

"I'll make you a deal," he said softly.

"I'm open for negotiation."

"You don't insult my car and I'll let you do anything you want."

She crooked an eyebrow at him. "Anything?"

His expression changed from flirtatious to worried. As if he suddenly realised he was making a deal with the devil. And he'd come close to those a few times. Jane grinned, her hand on his thigh, stroking suggestively.

"Drive, Dean. Just drive."

He took her to a secluded spot overlooking the city. It was one of the few times he managed to get some quiet time without Sam. Not that he didn't love working with his brother. But there were times when he just wanted some 'Dean' time. Especially when a gorgeous woman was involved. And most especially when she was ready, willing and able. And Jane was all three. Hell, she was almost panting for it.

Dean pulled up and turned off the ignition. He had barely turned toward her when she was on him, her mouth over his. Dean kissed her back roughly, knowing just how hard she liked it. Their tongues quickly began a battle for supremacy – a game of chess where neither would emerge the victor, but that was okay too, Dean thought. For a Pretender, for someone who played at getting inside people's heads and feeling their feelings, she was damn good in bed. He revelled in the fact that she knew exactly how to turn him on.

Jane moved over into his lap, her back leaning comfortably against the steering wheel. She let him take control of the next kiss, his tongue teasing a response from her as it licked its way along her bottom lip. She moaned as he sucked her lip into his mouth, catching it on his teeth, nipping gently before letting it go, full and lush in response. She grinned and pulled away slightly.

"Well, I'll say this for an Impala," she chuckled. "At least it's good for something."

"Yeah, uh-huh. Shut the hell up," Dean muttered, claiming her mouth again. But Jane pulled away knowing there was no way she was going to let Dean have this round. She crushed his mouth with her own, twisting her tongue around his, letting him know that, this time, she was in charge. Dean growled deep in his throat, a clear message that he wasn't going to let her win.

His hands were at her hips, pulling her top up to get at her skin underneath. Jane took his hand in hers, linking their fingers, pushing the hand away from her hip and down to the leather seat, while still continuing to make-out with him. Dean protested at the forced removal, a whimper coming from within. Jane ended the kiss, giving him a sly grin as she moved back far enough to shift her hand down to undo the button on his jeans. Dean's eyes were watching hers while she slowly pulled the zipper down. He wasn't wearing any underwear.

"Going commando again?" she asked, her hand already going to stroke the hard shaft. He answered with a sly grin of his own as he pulled the hem of her skirt up to reveal that she wasn't wearing anything either.

"Look who's talking!" he scoffed.

She kissed him again, hard on the lips. "And what makes you think ..." she began, before moving her mouth down to his throat, "I was thinking about you," another kiss, this time pushing his shirt collar aside, "when I got dressed this morning?"

Dean's blue eyes looked almost offended. Then he realised she was playing with him.

"Don't play these games with me lady," he warned gruffly.

Her brown eyes twinkled merrily. Oh, he thought, she was so going to get it.

"What are you going to do about it?" she challenged him.

What was he going to do? Oh, she had just dared the wrong guy, he told himself. He pushed himself forward a bit to give himself a little more room, then grabbed her hips, pulling her up, then down onto him. She gasped at the suddenness of the movement, leaning against him, her mouth on his heated skin as he thrust his hips up, going deep within her.

"Oh god!" she cried out as he controlled the speed and intensity of the thrusts with a tight grip on her hips. He groaned in response as he felt the tightness envelop him, squeeze him.

"Shit!"

"Ahh, Dean."

Ahh, so much for taking it slow, he thought. When he'd brought her out here, he hadn't intended to make it a quick fumble, hasty sex in the driver's seat. But god bless his beautiful car, he thought. Even her Mustang, American-made though it was, would never have had the same amount of room in the front seat. At least Impalas were made for this – for a woman bouncing in his lap, riding him hard and taking him ever closer to that nail-biting, fist-thumping, awesome climax. He held tightly to her as he rode out the waves of post-coital bliss while she leaned against him, fighting for breath. Well, he thought, for a goodbye, it was a hell of a lot better than saying 'sayonara'.

He took her again half an hour later on a blanket spread on the grass beside the car. The beauty of this little spot, which he'd found on a previous visit to San Francisco, was that no-one came near. The spot was high enough in the hills that it couldn't be looked on by anyone, unless they had telescopic vision. The waters below were far enough away that they would just be a blot on the landscape. Cars didn't come to this spot very often. Those that did just passed right on by and the drivers never looked this way.

Jane rolled over on top of him, planting a kiss on his bare chest before moving her mouth down to lick at his navel. She couldn't be ready for round three, could she? Dean thought. He felt her tongue dip into his belly button and he stiffened slightly. Yep, he thought. God, the woman was insatiable. And he thought he was the one with the incredible stamina!

As her mouth moved lower still, Dean prepared himself for the onslaught. He didn't care where she had learned it, she was too good at it. His arousal grew as her tongue lapped gently. Dean put a hand on her head, curling his fingers in her long hair. He must have gripped her a little too hard because she stopped licking and nipped him.

"Hey, ow," he said, glaring down at her. "Bitch!"

She tsked at him. "Now, now, no name calling," she said in a singsong voice which he hated. He removed his hand from her head, leaning back, hands behind his own head as she resumed licking. Dean sighed, losing himself in the waves of pleasure as her hot tongue worked its magic on him. He gasped as she took him in her mouth, her head bobbing up and down, giving no quarter as she sucked him into a state of frenzied shudders. But just as he thought he was about to blow, she stopped, removing her mouth and going to lick beneath him.

"Hey, whoa," he said, about to sit up. He'd only had that done to him a couple of times, and both times his partner had been hesitant, unsure. But Jane was confident, self-assured, and Jesus, he was being rimmed like he'd never been before!

"Relax babe," she said. "I know what I'm doing."

Dean groaned, once again lost in the pleasure as she thrust with her tongue for a few seconds, before returning to lick slowly up.

"Mmm, I love the way you taste," she was muttering. Dean closed his eyes, steeling himself against the moans and whimpers that threatened to escape his throat. No way was he going to let her know just how good this felt. No way.

"Oh shit," he cried out as she once more took him in her mouth, taking him to the edge before withdrawing like the tease she was. He lifted his head and glared fiercely at her.

She just grinned and kissed him hard, her naked breasts rubbing on his chest and he so wanted to pull her down and rub himself against her, tease her, make her feel as frustrated as she was making him. But Jane seemed to know exactly what he was thinking and she didn't give him time to find an opening, continuing to tease him.

After several more minutes of her own unique brand of torture, Dean couldn't stand it any longer. He grasped her by the shoulders, pushing her away from him and rolling her over onto her back. As she attempted to push back, he grabbed her wrists with one hand, forcing them over her head.

"That's it woman, you're going down," he said.

He straddled her, moving quickly down to position himself above her. Her eyes met his in a challenging glare. Dean took the opening he had, thrusting inside her. As soon as she dropped all pretence of a struggle, he let go of her wrists and she lifted her legs, hooking them over his shoulders so he could thrust deeper. He slid his hands under her hips, giving himself more leverage as he pounded into her. She groaned in response, arching her back, her hands clutching where ever they could get a hold but Dean was oblivious to the feel of her nails raking down his skin, so intent on the coming climax

"Jesus," he cried out and she moaned in pleasure. He stiffened as her muscles squeezed him and he was climaxing in what had to be the longest and hardest he had ever had in the whole of his years of sexual maturity.

Panting, he collapsed on top of her, barely aware that she had just managed to move her legs down just in time. Damn, he thought. She sure knows a trick or two. He briefly wondered who had taught her that, but pushed it away, knowing if he ever met the guy he'd either want to congratulate him or punch him out in a fit of jealousy. And Dean knew that in spite of the mind-blowing sex they'd just had, he had no claim on this woman. A relationship between them would be impossible. They were both on the road, doing their respective jobs. Neither one of them had the time, or the energy for that kind of commitment.

Dean came out of his post-coital stupor to realise she had been trying to get his attention.

"Your phone's ringing," she said.

Shit! he mentally cursed himself. He thought he'd turned it off. He scrambled up, trying to ignore the fact that his knees were trembling. Wouldn't do to show weakness in front of a woman – no matter how sexy she was.

Dean dug around in the car, aware he was showing his naked butt to the woman lying on the rug, and managed to grab the phone before it went to voicemail.

"Sammy?"

He moved back to the rug to sit beside Jane, who had sat up by this time and was now curling herself around his nakedness.

"We got another job. Boston."

"When?"

"We need to move right away. Bobby called. He thinks it could be a vampire. Or a werewolf. Woman was mauled to death, according to the police reports. Bobby doesn't want any more casualties."

Dean was struggling to keep an ear on the conversation, but it wasn't easy when his lover had her tongue in his ear. He scrunched his shoulder, trying to squirm away from her. He frowned at her and she grinned unrepentantly.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy, I'm here. I'll get there as soon as I can."

"Dean, you know I'm all for the, uh, extra-curriculars, but ..."

"I said I'll be there," Dean snapped, irritated. Honestly, sometimes Sammy's need to preach about his sex life got on his nerves.

Jane was pulling on her clothes. She looked at him. "Boston huh?"

"You heard that?"

"Your call volume is kind of loud."

He shrugged. "Yeah." He tossed the phone back in the open window of the car and began pulling on his own clothes. "So I guess we better head back."

Sammy was standing outside the big house when they pulled up. Dean stayed behind the wheel as Jane got out. Sam stowed the gear in the trunk, then went to get in the car. Jane stopped him with a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Watch over him for me Sammy."

Sam smiled. It had taken him a while to warm up to the woman, but he realised he genuinely liked her. Jane went around to the driver's side and caught Dean's lips in a long, deep kiss.

"This was fun," she said with a smirk. She pressed a slip of paper into Dean's hand. "Call me," she whispered. He nodded.

"Well, guess this is g..."

Jane pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him before he could say it.

"Take care of yourself Dean," she said.

He nodded again.

"You too." He started the car and began to pull slowly away from the kerb. Jane lifted her hand in a wave and he waved back briefly before the Impala disappeared around a bend in the road. Jane stood in the middle of the street for a few moments, watching. Then with a sigh, she turned and went into the big house.

XXXXX

Epilogue

Jane went back to LA two days later and made her report to Jarod. She stayed at the Foundation, finishing up on the report. She sat at the computer, staring into space.

"Something on your mind?" Parker asked.

"No. Yes. I don't know."

"Is it Dean?" her sister-in-law enquired.

"Yeah, I guess. I mean, he's a great guy and everything. And hot. But, I don't know. Something was missing."

"Like what?"

"Nothing I could really put my finger on," she said.

"Could it be that while you were attracted to him, you weren't in love with him?"

Jane stared at her sister-in-law. Parker might not have been trained to be a Pretender, but she was every bit as smart as Jarod. She realised Parker was right. She didn't love Dean. There was only one man she'd felt such strong feelings for. And he didn't want her back.

Parker smiled and turned to leave.

"Oh, by the way, Jarod called. Clark's here. Jarod invited him to dinner."

"I'd like to see him, but I need to finish this report first. Jarod wants me to head out first thing in the morning on another job.

"Well, come home when you can."

"Thanks. I will."

An hour later, she entered the house to find Clark wiping the dishes. The normal way.

"Hello Clark. Or I guess it's Superman now," she said.

Clark looked around at her as she stood in the doorway. He smiled tentatively.

"Clark's fine," he said.

Jane noticed he wasn't wearing his Superman uniform. She moved further in, going to the refrigerator and taking the juice out, pouring herself a glass. Clark watched as she stood there, drinking.

"You weren't here for dinner," he said, then rolled his eyes at the inanity of the remark.

"No, I had to finish a report at the Foundation. Grabbed dinner out."

"So it wasn't because you were avoiding me?"

Jane's brown eyes studied him. "No," she said truthfully. "I'm not avoiding you. I actually hoped to catch you before you left. I wanted to apologise for what happened in Metropolis. I know now that I went about things the wrong way. I should have told you what I was doing." She sighed, heaving her shoulders. "I made a very bad decision and I know there's nothing I can do to make up for that. But I'm hoping that we can at least start again and be friends."

"I'd like that," he said with a smile.

"Parker told me you were here," she said.

"Yeah. The Governor asked for my help with a few fires in the hills."

"Oh. So, how's Lois?"

"You know Lois," he said. "We're getting married in a couple of weeks."

"Yeah, I know. I wish I could be there, but, I guess, with everything I ... Anyway, I uh, I have to go to England. Another job for the Foundation. I could be gone a month or so. A friend of mine is going to be at a forensics conference as well, and he asked me to go along."

They sat at the table, talking for a while. By the time Clark left to fly back to Metropolis, Jane knew things would be okay.


End file.
